Sins of the Father
by LemonSupreme
Summary: The Bennett Republic isn't as big or powerful as the Monre Republic was - not yet at least, but Connor is doing everything he can to make it so. When his men take Charlie, Bass will do anything to rescue her, even if it might mean facing a past long left behind, dealing w/ a devolving Nano, joining forces with someone he hates or even killing his only son. Charloe.
1. Chapter 1

**Sins of the Father**

Ha ha ha, bless your soul  
>You really think you're in control?<p>

Well, I think you're crazy  
>I think you're crazy<br>I think you're crazy  
>Just like me<br>-Gnarls Barkley, 'Crazy"

"I guess I should have hugged him more."

-Bass Monroe

**Prologue in Three Parts**

Connor Bennett is crazy.

He wasn't always crazy. Everyone knows this, but he is definitely crazy now. He's not the kind of crazy that people might chuckle over at family dinners. This isn't Uncle Melvin dropping his teeth in the soup before singing Old Susanna. No, Connor is the kind of crazy that makes people tremble in fear, and that is exactly what they do. In the two years that have passed since Texas declared war on the Patriots; Connor has built a life for himself – an honest to God Republic of his own. The way wasn't easy. How he got where he is has required acts of trickery and cruelty few would have ever thought him capable of, but so it goes.

The northeast is still a fall-out zone and far too 'hot' (even after all this time) to live in safely. It is for this reason that Connor had based his operations out of the Midwest. He'd toyed with St. Louis and Des Moines, but both were heavily defended by war clans. In the end, he'd settled on Indianapolis. The winters are colder than what he'd enjoyed in Mexico or even Texas for that matter, but generally it's not a bad location for a young dictatorship. The former capital building serves not only as Connor's home, but his government's headquarters. The lower levels are where the prison is located, as well as the barracks for his militia.

The Bennett Republic is still fairly small (for now) though it grows by the day. It is very different from the Monroe Republic, but Connor had certainly used the legends of his father's long dead empire as inspiration for the one he is building for himself. He longs for the day when his father will join him and they will rule together just as they'd planned to do long ago. Connor knows in his heart that this will happen. It is just a matter of time.

This particular spring day is cool and the sweet smell of lilacs wafts on the breeze. Connor sips chamomile tea from a dainty china cup as he looks out over the courtyard four floors below. It's almost noon on Tuesday, which means the entertainment will be starting soon. He smiles as the bell in the clock tower begins to clang its midday song. As if on cue, some of his militia soldiers march into the space below with four blindfolded traitors in tow. The men are lined against a long brick wall. Connor watches, mesmerized as rifles are aimed…

Without warning there is a loud knock on his office door. Connor whirls, an angry scowl replacing the smile from moments before as steaming tea burns his fingers. "What do you want?" he growls at his visitor. The gunshots ring out loudly through the open window. Connor closes his eyes, frustrated to have missed his favorite part. He opens them narrowly, and considers gutting the nervous assistant who stands before him. After a moment of consideration, Connor decides that killing him wouldn't be worth the trouble it would take to train a replacement. He shrugs. They need to get to work anyway. They need to strategize. Time is of the essence.

Besides, there's always next Tuesday.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Rachel Matheson is sick.

She's not sick with the flu or pneumonia or probably anything remotely treatable at all. She doesn't know what is wrong exactly – but she senses it's serious. At first it was just the headaches. Blinding pain and white light accompanied by high pitched squeals that only she could hear. She'd chalked them up to stress for several weeks, assuming they would pass in time. But recently in addition to the headaches, she's started to lose time. One minute she's eating dinner or reading a book. The next she's standing on the edge of town, staring into the night sky. Miles is busy and hasn't really noticed her odd behavior, but Rachel knows she won't be able to keep it from him for much longer.

Rachel is an intelligent woman. Hell, who is she kidding? She's a genius. Although she doesn't know that much about neurological science, she is fairly confident that whatever is wrong with her is in her brain. Maybe it might have been treatable before the power went out. The irony isn't lost on her. It is Rachel's brain, after all, that was largely to blame for the blackout.

She needs to see a doctor. In her heart she knows she really needs to see a neurologist, but of course there aren't any left in Texas as far as she knows. Even if she could find one, there isn't much they could do without the gadgets and machines of years gone by. No matter. At the very least she needs to visit a regular doctor. Even though she doesn't want to, she knows she's going to have to talk to her Dad about this, and probably the sooner the better.

Rachel feels in her gut that she's running out of time.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Bass Monroe is in love.

This new love is different from what he felt for Emma. That love had been young and forbidden. Emma had never really been his – always belonging to Miles, at least officially. Maybe things would have been different if they'd been honest with him back then - maybe, but then again maybe not. Bass had given up playing the 'what if' game a long time ago.

This new love is different from what he felt for Shelly. That love had also been young, and it had been sweet and special and he will always treasure the happy memories he has of their time together. Their future had looked so bright and he remembers how hopeful they'd been. Losing Shelly and their baby had broken him. It had turned him into someone – something – that he was almost unable to escape from.

Everything had fallen apart at the tower. Bass was already reeling from the knowledge that he had a son out there somewhere when in one fateful night he lost both his city and his Republic. These devastating blows had served as a catalyst for change in him. He wasn't even sure he could change at first. It had taken months of being a nobody in New Vegas to remember he used to be somebody. Once, long ago he had been more than the President of the Monroe Republic or the General of its Militia. He had been Bass back then, and Bass had been an okay guy. The thing was, Bass had succeeded in life only when standing next to his best friend. So he'd gone in search of Miles. It had been rough going for a while, but the two were now once again on (mostly) solid ground with each other.

The Patriot War has been over for more than a year, but Bass has stuck around Willoughby long after he was truly needed there.

In the beginning he told himself he was staying for Miles, but he wasn't able to convince himself of that for long. Once she had it in her head that he was the guy for her, Bass didn't stand a chance. Not that he wanted to deny the feelings that had grown between them. Some things can't be denied.

Bass had thought he would never love again. His heart was too broken. His soul was too tired. Hell, he was just too damned old. He'd been wrong. She is different from Emma and different from Shelly. She is different from every woman he's ever met, and yet he feels that every woman before her was preparing him for this love. Every lesson he's learned, every loss he's suffered has brought him to her. Somehow she loves him in spite of the fact that he doesn't deserve it. She loves him, flaws and all, and in return he has given her his heart.

They lie entwined on the bed in his house. He's propped up on one elbow, gently rubbing circles into her back, running his palm along her torso and down her thigh. He could just stay like this forever, watching her, touching her. But they need to talk. They love each other to distraction, but they've been fighting a lot lately. It's always the same argument and there doesn't seem to be an end in sight.

"I don't want you to do it." He says, for what must be the hundredth time.

"We aren't going to talk about it anymore. I have to do it. You know that." She moves away from his touch, standing to walk naked to the dresser where she has a change of clothes stashed in a drawer. He watches as she dresses quickly, admiring every inch of exposed flesh before it disappears from view.

"I love you." His voice is soft and pleading.

"I know you do." She smiles at him and it is the most devastating smile. Every time he sees it, he is sure his heart will explode. "I love you too. I still have to do it." She kisses him then. It is a lingering kiss that makes him want nothing more than to drag her back to his bed, but he doesn't.

"See you in a week?" he asks instead. He had known he wasn't going to win this argument, but he had to try.

"Of course." She blows him one last kiss before leaving. As he falls back into his pillow, Bass sighs unhappily. Falling in love with a strong, stubborn woman is wonderful and amazing, but sometimes it is also a pain in the ass. He knows he'll worry until he can hold her in his arms again. He'll worry because she is his life. She is his love. She carries his heart with her wherever she goes.

Bass glances at the old fashioned wind-up Big Ben clock next to his bed. A week apart shouldn't be a big deal, but he knows that it will drag and he will be miserable until she comes home to him again. Being in love is wonderful and amazing, but sometimes it also sucks.

**Chapter 1**

Frank Blanchard had jumped from retirement right into the mix when Texas declared war. Shortly after the war had gone full throttle, he'd jumped again – this time into the role of the President of Texas. Frank had been the only valid option really: partly due to the fact that the Patriots had killed just about every high ranking member of the Texas government by then, and partly because nobody else wanted the top spot.

Just as Blanchard had been the only real choice for President; so was Miles Matheson the most obvious choice for Willoughby's sheriff. He'd gotten the job as soon as the ink on the Patriot surrender was signed. What had surprised everyone – even Miles – was his natural flair for the job. Back when he and Bass had run the Monroe Republic together, Miles had led the militia, but had left the politics to Bass. Bass was smoother, more charming, and he loved the attention. Surprisingly, Miles is finding he too can be smooth and charming when he wants to be, and he doesn't hate the attention like he'd thought he might. Bottom line: He bitches about it from time to time, but Miles is a very good sheriff.

Maybe too good.

President Blanchard had recognized Miles's success by adding to his responsibilities. Now, in addition to running Willoughby, Sheriff Matheson oversees five additional Texas towns in the vicinity. They cover a decent chunk of the area (now called the Matheson District) and he has to travel a lot. Unfortunately this has meant his time with Rachel and Charlie and even Bass has been limited to a few days out of each month. That's the part of the job he hates.

Miles is in Willoughby this week to catch up on paperwork, have a few meetings and make the rounds in town. He counts himself lucky to have several qualified deputies who do all the heavy lifting. Today he sits behind a big oak desk, sifting through reports with a frown. He's preparing for a series of meetings with Georgia that have him on edge. A lot rides on renewing the current treaty, and it has fallen to Miles to ensure that the renewal happens. Georgia was a mere shadow of its former self. The only thing that had saved the western portion was the Gulf Winds that pulled the worst of the nuclear fallout East. What was left of Georgia is small, but the people there are still a force to be reckoned with. This treaty has to be renewed. Miles sighs heavily.

The door bangs open and Miles knows the identity of his visitor without even looking up.

"Bass." He says. Monroe always did enjoy making an entrance. Miles glances at his friend and feels the now familiar sting of pity, though he hides it behind a friendly smile. Bass's limp isn't pronounced unless it's raining or getting ready to rain, but it's there. It will always be there.

_It had been a warm day and there hadn't been much Patriot activity in the area for weeks. The two Generals were leading a group of twenty-five soldiers through a thick grove of pecan trees when the ambush had occurred. Miles came out unscathed, as had most of their men. By the end of the brief battle, all the Patriot soldiers were dead and so were four of the Texans. Bass was badly injured, his left thigh reduced to nothing more than pulp and broken bones. Miles was sure his best friend would bleed out right there, and he would have but one of the remaining Texas soldiers was a former Emergency Room Doctor. Almost too old to fight; he had patched Bass up as best he could right there under the shade of the Pecan trees. They had busted tail to get Bass back to town and Gene had set in immediately with the ER Doc at his side. Gene swore Bass Monroe had a guardian angel watching over him that day. "He should be dead." The old doctor had said. "No way is he ever walking again. For that matter - no way is he keeping that leg." Gene had been wrong on all three counts luckily, but Bass's leg will never be the same._

"Stop looking at me like I'm a dying kid on a telethon, Miles. It's been a year. I'm as okay as I'm ever gonna be and I'm not sad about it. Why the hell should you be?" Bass's grin is cocky, but he looks tired as he rubs his left thigh absently. He's in some degree of pain at all times. That had been one thing the doctor had predicted correctly.

"Sorry Bass. You know I just feel bad about how that all went down. I should have seen that guy coming."

Monroe shrugs, "Whatever. That's not why I'm here."

"And why are you here?" Miles leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. Bass doesn't usually visit.

"Have some time to kill this week. Been working a lot, but in my free time I've been pretty bored these last few days. Wondered if you'd be up for a drink while you're in town? I could use a distraction."

Miles smiles and nods, "I think I can squeeze you in. How about tomorrow night?"

Bass stands, "Sounds good Brother. See you then."

Xxxx

Connor Bennett is worried. Resources are scarce.

His Republic needs to expand their tillable acres. Farmland in the East is tainted and anything grown there is still toxic. Illinois and Indiana have both been good for planting, but with a steadily growing population; they need more lands where crops will thrive. A lot more, and they need them fast.

Connor stands next to a huge table in an opulent parlor, leaning on his fists. His eyes scan the familiar boundaries on the map before him. So far Connor has only been able to re-claim a portion of his father's former holdings. The East is fried, but Connor and his men have taken Michigan, Illinois, Indiana, and Wisconsin for the Bennett Republic. So far, his only current holding that wasn't once part of the Monroe Republic is eastern Missouri, and that has been a very recent acquisition. The area is still plagued by war clans. Connor will have to send a lot of troops to clear them out. He sighs. That is a problem for a different day. Today the worry is farmland.

The lands around the Mississippi River have been the best for food production so far, and Connor wants more of it. He jabs a finger at the map. "We have scouts here." He points at Iowa. "and here at the Triangle." He points at the junction where the Bennett Republic (the section that was once southeastern Missouri) meets current Texas and Georgia borders. "This spot may be heavily guarded, but I have a good feeling about it." He taps the edge of Texas a few times, lost in thought.

He looks up from his reverie, "Has anyone heard from either group? I expected word by now." His eyes are clear but hard. He is not a man to be trifled with. His assistant nods and leaves the room in search of anyone who can get the information President Bennett wants.

Xxxx

"So you're sure?" Rachel asks her Dad, her voice shaky.

Gene looks exhausted and heartbroken, "Well no, honey I'm not sure. I'm not a specialist in this field. I've never diagnosed or treated a brain tumor before. I certainly don't have the training or equipment to remove one – even if I knew where to look." Gene rubs at the stubble on his chin. He is distraught after listening to Rachel detail her symptoms. He's not a neurologist, but he'd bet money that something in Rachel's head is a ticking time bomb.

"I love you Daddy. Try not to worry." Rachel's mouth quivers. She hates feeling weak, but right now weakness and fear are the only emotions she knows. She wishes Miles was here with her. He's been so busy lately, but she yearns for him in this time of uncertainty.

"I love you to Rachel. I'm sorry I can't help you more. If the pain becomes too much I can give you something for that." Gene gives his daughter a hug.

"Thanks Dad. I'll keep in in mind."

She leaves her Dad's office, determined to find Miles and tell him about this. He deserves to know.

xxxx

Charlie Matheson has been scouting on a freelance basis for the Texas Rangers since shortly after the Patriot War had begun. Even though the Patriot threat has been eliminated, Texas still worries about war clans and potential invasions from other nations. It is for this reason that she is still doing her thing for Texas. The current task is simple, but potentially dangerous. Their team's assignment is to check the borders at what they call the Triangle. Texas and Georgia are somewhat friendly. At the moment their treaty is being renegotiated but most still consider Georgia a Texas ally. Nobody, on the other hand trusts the Bennett Republic as far as they can throw them. It is in this one spot that all three nations meet. They are maybe ten clicks from the Triangle's center when all hell breaks loose.

The first thing that happens is Jameson goes down; a big red flower of blood blooming on his chest, his eyes unblinking before the sound of gunshots even really registers with his teammates. Charlie jumps into action immediately, using every trick Miles and Monroe had ever taught her. She watches two more of the Texas group go down: Pedro and McCallister. She curses. McCallister was their best shot. She aims and fires off two shots of her own, hitting two soldiers (she can't tell from here what uniform, if any, they're wearing). Another one of the Texans is shot: this time it's Ceclia with the curly red hair and the penchant for breaking into song. Charlie grits her teeth and charges. She gets off another shot and another attacker falls. She has killed four more before they get her. It is then, and only then that she sees for sure who the enemy is. The man who cuffs her and throws her roughly into the back of a wagon with four others is wearing the Bennett Militia uniform. She groans inwardly. When they ask for names, Charlie says without hesitating, "Nora Clayton". No way is she telling these sons of bitches who she really is. She's heard the stories of the brutality that Connor Bennett routinely doles out these days. She has a feeling that a girl he used to have a thing for, but who turned him down flat the last several times he asked… won't get any special treatment.

She looks at the defeated faces of the other captured Texans: Bobby, Chad, Gonzo and Nellie. "You guys all right?" Charlie asks.

Nellie shrugs, her expression blank, "We're gonna die Charlie."

Charlie scowls, "No we are not. We're gonna – " She doesn't see the butt of the rifle that they hit her with. She only sees a bright flash of light and then she sleeps.

xxxxxxxxxx

Miles is tidying up his desk a bit before leaving for the day. He's honestly been looking forward to a drink with Bass ever since his friend had mentioned it yesterday. They have a lot to catch up on. He stands and is half to the door when it comes open. A messenger stands there. Based on his uniform, he is part of the Rangers organization.

"What is it?" Miles asks.

The kid is young and clearly nervous. He bites his lip, unsure what to say at first.

"I asked what is it?" Miles asks again. His gaze is boring into the boy now.

"Well sir." The kid clears his throat. "There's been some trouble up by the Triangle. Rangers office said you would want to know."

Miles feels his heart sink into his boots, "Charlie?" he asks.

The kid nods once. "She's missing sir. One of our guys got away. They say she and a handful of others were taken off in a wagon as prisoners, Sir."

"Who took them?" Miles can feel his heart pounding in his chest. He knows in his gut what the answer will be but he finds himself praying he's wrong.

"Well, our guy wasn't absolutely sure."

Miles slams a clenched fist down on his desk, "Tell me! Who do they think took her?"

The boy has gone ashen as Miles stares him down. "The Bennett Republic Sir."

Miles knew it, but hearing the words sends a shiver down his spine. "Fuck."

He has to find Bass.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Miles is running down the main drag of Willoughby. He cuts an impressive figure to begin with but when Miles is on the run, his face tight with fear and determination; everyone jumps out of the way.

Everyone but one person.

He comes to a crashing halt as Rachel steps into his path. "Is she okay?" Rachel asks. How she knows is a mystery to Miles but he won't waste a moment worrying about it.

"I don't know. Sounds like Connor's men have taken her – probably to Indianapolis. I'm gonna go get Bass right now."

He starts to run again and he can hear Rachel hot on his trail. They arrive at the little bar where Miles was supposed to meet Bass for drinks. Miles pushes through the door and it smacks loudly against the wall. Bass is already there and looks up with a grin. "Thought I was the only one that walked into a place like that." He's laughing, but then he sees the look on Miles's face, and he sees Rachel and the fear that is clear on hers. He stands and walks to them, his limp more pronounced than usual. He must have been siting there for a while.

"What's wrong Miles?" he knows, but he asks anyway. He knows before Miles says the words. He knows because he can see it in the way they are looking at him – fear and pity.

"It's Charlie." Miles says, his voice straining from the emotion. "Connor has taken her prisoner."

"Connor." Bass says, his voice full of fear and loathing at the name of his only son. This is the reason they pity him. They know how horrified he is to know his son has turned out this way. Bass runs a shaky hand across his bearded chin. If Connor touches one hair on her head, Bass will kill the boy himself. "Let's go." He says then, no hesitation. He's on board with any and every plan Miles might possibly come up with. Charlie is in trouble.

Miles looks distraught, "I can't go."

"What?" Rachel and Bass speak with one voice, both shocked to hear Miles say he can't go.

"I have to meet with Georgia tomorrow. Our treaty with them is on very shaky ground. Blanchard is worried we'll have another war on our hands. I'll be right behind you. A day back – two at most - but you have to go first Bass. You have to go help her. I need you to do this Brother, and maybe Connor will listen to you."

Bass snorts, "Yeah, that will happen." He shakes off the frustration. He has work to do.

"You probably have the best chance of all of us. That crazy kid thinks you want to join him anyway." Miles says.

Bass straightens his shoulders, and nods. "I really don't know that he'll listen to me, but I'll go get Charlie back. I won't let him hurt her." He frowns, trying to hide the terror he's feeling in this moment. Bass takes a steadying breath before continuing, "I've got to pack a few things and get a fresh horse. I can be on my way in twenty minutes."

Miles nods, feeling hopeful for the first time since hearing the news of Charlie's capture. He opens his mouth to thank his friend, but Bass is already out the door. Miles sinks into a nearby chair, holding his head in his hands. He is filled with so much anger, so much hatred for Connor Bennett in this moment, he can hardly breathe.

He looks up and sees Rachel watching him. She looks repulsed. "A treaty with Georgia is more important than Charlie?" venom drips from every word. She turns and walks out, not waiting for a reply.

Miles grabs the first thing he can; it's the half full glass of whiskey Bass had just abandoned. With a feral growl, Miles hurls the glass at the wall of the bar where it shatters. The bartender starts to say something, but seeing the rabid look on Miles's face; he reconsiders. He just nods to the Sheriff before turning to get the broom.

Miles storms out. This Georgia shit better not take long. He needs to help Bass find Charlie.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Charlie wakes up, her head aches. She looks around and sees the sun setting beyond the tree line. Her hands are cuffed, and the bindings around her wrists have been attached to the side of the wagon. She does a quick inventory. All of her weapons are gone. This isn't a surprise exactly, but she'd hoped they might miss the knife in her boot. No such luck.

She looks at the others. Bobby and Chad are asleep, or at least she hopes so. Both are leaning against the opposite side of the wagon, heads lolling and eyes closed. Nellie is crying quietly in one corner. Gonzo is – well, she's pretty sure Gonzo is dead. "What happened?" Charlie whispers at Nellie, motioning her head in Gonzo's direction.

Nellie composes herself somewhat, "He was mocking one of the soldiers. Said he was fat and lazy and it was a miracle he'd been able to catch us."

"Then what?" she asks, impatiently.

"Then Mr. Fat and Lazy beat him with his rifle stock till he died. You were out cold. The other guys didn't say anything. Neither did I. We're all too scared.

They sit in silence for a while. Nellie finally asks Charlie a question. "Do you know President Bennett? I know your uncle and his Dad are friends."

Charlie closes her eyes as thoughts of Miles and Bass wash over her. They'll find her. She knows it in her heart. She only hopes they'll find her soon. "Yeah, I know him. His Dad and my Uncle are friends, that's true." She pauses a moment before continuing, "But Bass and Connor had a big falling out. They haven't talked in a really long time."

"Have you heard the stories out of Indianapolis? The torture? The firing squads?"

Charlie can only nod, remembering a sweet seemingly innocent boy of long ago. "Yeah, I've heard."

"We're gonna die." Nellie says. She sounds resigned. Charlie doesn't argue. Nellie is probably right.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Bass has saddled up his favorite stable horse Roland. Roland is sleek and black and faster than any other horse Bass has ever ridden. He has his bedroll ready and his bag packed, not that he needed much. Most of his 'packing' efforts had been spent accumulating every weapon and bit of ammo he could get his hands on that he can take along. He's carefully, but quickly figuring out where everything will go. When he's satisfied, he takes a deep breath and mounts the horse. Stabbing pain shoots up his leg, but he ignores it. When he pulls the reigns to the side, nudging the horse from the stable; he sees her.

Rachel Matheson is standing before a sleek white horse. It is packed in a manner similar to Bass's horse.

"What's going on Rachel?" he asks. He's tired and worried and in no mood to deal with her.

"I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not."

"Yeah, I am. Charlie is my daughter and I want to help."

Bass is going to argue, but what's the point? He knows how stubborn Matheson women can be. He has no time to argue. "Fine," he says, "but I'm not doing anything special for you. Keep up or you'll be left behind. I don't care if you are Miles's girlfriend and Charlie's Mom. You will not slow me down."

"I'll keep up." She promises.

He doesn't respond, but kicks his heels into Roland's flanks and sets off into the night, Rachel Matheson following not far behind.

Miles watches from a storefront across the street. He wants more than anything to join them, but takes some comfort in knowing that both Bass and Rachel are on Charlie's trail. He'll follow as soon as this Georgia bullshit is behind him. For now, he'll just have to wait.

**Author's Note: Thanks to the amazing dvpdvpdvp for the inspiration for this story. In the coming chapters you'll be seeing all the familiar faces from the show, including one that we haven't seen in a while… I'm really excited about where this story is headed, and I hope you'll come along on this new journey with us. Review if you have a minute. I love to hear your thoughts.**


	2. Chapter 2

"You are a Monroe. You should be leading the Republic. You and me together, we can take it back."  
>-Bass Monroe<br>**  
>Chapter 2<strong>

Miles Matheson is sprawled on top of his bed. He wakes slowly, forcing himself to accept that a new day has arrived. He aches everywhere. Opening one eye just to test the waters, he sees that he is still fully dressed, right down to the dusty boots on his feet. His eyes burn. His head pounds. His gut is a rolling tidal wave of whiskey flavored regret. This is the hangover to end all hangovers. Miles Matheson can hold his liquor – hell, he's famous for it, but he'd drunk more than even he should have last night. The trouble is that Miles has always turned to booze as a coping mechanism, and right now he has a hell of a lot to cope with.

Charlie is in big trouble. Bass has gone after her which is good. Rachel is tagging along with Bass which is good on one level, but terrifying on another. Miles wants to be with them. He wants to help. He wants to keep them from killing each other. He wants more than anything to knock that cocky piece of shit Connor into next week and bring Charlie home. But no. This mess with Georgia means that Miles is stuck in Willoughby all because a while back he decided to be a good guy and good guys have responsibilities.

Being a good guy blows.

The pounding in Miles's head is getting worse, but slowly he realizes the sound he's hearing isn't coming from his head. He stands on shaky feet, groaning. The room spins and his stomach twists and shudders. He leans heavily against the wall, not moving for a moment. When he feels steadier, he plods toward the front door.

Gene is here. He brushes past Miles without really even looking at him. "I just heard about Charlie. How is she? Why aren't you out there looking for her?" Gene looks like he hasn't been sleeping.

"Slow down doc. My head feels like it's in a giant vice right now. One question at a time."

Gene nods, "How is my Granddaughter? Where is she?"

"That was two questions." Miles grumbles before slumping into a chair at the kitchen table.

"Damn it Miles. Tell me about Charlie."

"Sorry Gene. The answer is - I don't know shit. Rumor is that Connor's men have her. You've heard the stories about him and what he's capable of. He's a brutal asshole, but he and Charlie have history and that may work in her favor."

"Or maybe it won't." Gene sits down across from Miles. "This is turning into the worst week ever."

"Well, there is good news." Miles says, trying to sound hopeful and failing miserably.

"Oh, what's that?"

"Bass has gone to find her."

"That's good news how? Why aren't YOU trying to find her?"

"You know I'd be out there if I could. This Georgia treaty thing has me tied here for a day or so, but Bass is on her trail already. He'll find her and he'll bring her home."

Gene shakes his head, "You think Bass will go up against his own kid to save Charlie?"

Miles does not hesitate, "Yes, I guarantee you he will. Listen Gene, when Connor started gaining power, Bass was the first one to say he thought it was going to end badly. He is ashamed of his kid right now. Bass worked hard to bring himself out of that world. He hates that his kid has chosen to take his place there. Besides, he knows how important Charlie is to me, and he cares for her too. They've gotten pretty close."

"How close?" Gene asks, brow furrowing.

"Oh hell Gene. I didn't mean it like that. Bass isn't seeing anyone right now as far as I know, least of all Charlie."

The older man nods, satisfied. "Fine. Keep me updated, okay?"

"Of course."

"Hey Miles, there's something else we need to discuss."

"What's that?"

"Rachel."

"Well, she's pretty mad at me right now. When I told her I couldn't go with Bass, she went in my place."

Gene is on his feet, "What? She can't go with him. She can't go anywhere, Miles." Gene's expression goes from worry to panic in a moment.

Miles shrugs, but he looks confused. "She's a grown ass woman Gene. What was I supposed to say?"

"You don't understand. The other reason I came to see you was to warn you about Rachel." He sits back down, this time burying his head in his hands.

Miles has a sinking feeling. "What is it Gene? What were you going to warn me about?"

"She's sick Miles. Rachel is really sick."

xxxxxxxxxx

Bass hasn't slept well in years. The insomnia had started shortly after Miles left Philadelphia. With it had come the paranoia and the madness. Thankfully the paranoia and madness only rear their heads on occasion these days.

The insomnia, it seems, is here to stay.

Bass closes his eyes and sits at the base of a tree, leaning against the rough bark. He rubs at his bum leg without even realizing he's doing it at first. After all that riding they've done, his thigh feels like it's been put through a meat grinder. Luckily Bass has a high tolerance for pain – the physical kind anyway. He never has been good when it comes to dealing with emotional pain. His mind drifts to Charlie and her fate if he can't get to her. He shakes it off….can't handle thinking about that right now. His nerves are raw. Not just from his worry over Charlie, but also from the forced proximity to Rachel. Talk about emotional pain. God, how he hates her, and the fact that she's tagging along grates on every nerve. Just seeing her self-righteous face makes Bass want to break something.

He's letting Rachel sleep, but it's not out of any feeling of compassion. He just needs to give his leg a break from riding. Bass breathes deeply, concentrating on happier thoughts. He decides to distract himself with good memories. He thinks back to the day when everything shifted - the day when his stupid pathetic life found its meaning - the day that he first realized he really could be happy again - the day he realized he had fallen in love with Charlie.

_Ten Months ago:  
>Bass was sick of it. He was sick of the pain in his leg. He was sick of the stupid bandages. He was sick of the bed which had become a prison. He was sick of wondering if he'd ever walk again. The only bright spot in those days after his leg got all shot to hell were the visitors. Miles stopped by every morning on his way to work for a few minutes. Gene or Phil (the old ER doc who had surely saved Bass's life) came by around noon to deliver lunch, check his bandages, and dole out the medicine that kept Bass from the agony that awaited otherwise. The medicine had usually kicked in nicely when his last visitor of the day would arrive. <em>

_He didn't know if she'd volunteered, or had been coerced into helping him, but it was Charlie who came by with his dinner every night. At first the meetings were brief and fairly impersonal. Bass and Charlie had gotten along okay at one time, maybe even been friends. Hell, there had been times when their eyes had met, and he'd have sworn there was something more than friendship building there. But then the damn war started and they hardly saw each other. By the time Bass was on bed rest, whatever bond they had at one time seemed firmly in the past. They got along, but it wasn't the same – at least not at first._

_Her visits started out as stilted and short, but after the first week Charlie and Bass both found themselves laughing a little. By the end of week two, she was staying while he ate. Another week passed and she was reading to him from novels she'd found in the old library long after his plate was empty. The flirting started in week four. By the fifth week they weren't even trying to be subtle anymore. Double entendres and eye fuckery did abound. Clearly something was brewing, though neither acknowledged it directly – not yet. They both knew it was just a matter of time._

_Then everything changed. It was an unseasonably hot day and Bass was even more miserable than usual. "I feel disgusting Charlie. I'm hot and sweaty." Charlie had just brought him his dinner: a cold slab of cured ham, a slice of bread, and two apples. He'd already taken off everything but his boxers in an effort to cool off. Even though he felt miserable, he couldn't help but notice the way Charlie's eyes scanned his mostly bare body._

"_Well, you ARE kind of disgusting." she said with a serious expression before cracking a smile. "Eat your dinner. I'll see if I can figure out a way to cool you off." She'd left him then, but by the time he had finished his meal she was back. "I come bearing gifts," she said, holding up a metal pail._

_Bass was skeptical, "What is that?" he asked._

"_Cool water and a sponge." She said with a grin. Clearly she was very proud of her idea._

"_So, uh YOU are going to give ME a sponge bath?" Bass tried to hide his grin, but failed miserably._

"_Unless you want to do it yourself?" Her eyes met his and suddenly he knew that she'd already figured out he'd been doing a lot of 'helping himself' lately. It was true. He loved her visits, but they were torture on his self-control. By the time she left him every day, he had a lot of frustration that had to be worked out. Thank God it was his leg and not an arm that was broken._

_Bass shook his head, and spoke quietly. "Please, be my guest." He leaned back then, waiting to see what she would do next, his eyes challenging._

_Charlie started with his face, trailing the cool wet sponge across his forehead, cheeks, and chin. He closed his eyes as the cool dampness of the sponge moved down his throat and over his shoulders, soothing and refreshing his skin. Bass's eyes popped open when she dipped the sponge in the water again and slowly brushed it across his pectorals, teasing his nipples into hard little peaks. Bass sucked in a breath, wishing he'd thought this through more. "So, that's probably good enough." He said, his voice rough._

_Charlie arched an eyebrow and smirked, "Looks to me like we're just getting started." Charlie glanced at the growing bulge under his boxer shorts before her gaze found his again. Without breaking eye contact, she moved the sponge to his abs, which quivered under her touch._

"_Seriously Charlie. That's enough." He tried to sit up. _

_Charlie bit her lip before speaking, "You sure? I don't want you to miss out on a bath. Is it me? Am I the problem?" she asked, still moving the sponge slowly across toned muscles. "Should I leave? Maybe I should ask someone else to come in and finish this for you? Maybe Priscilla or my Mom could help?"_

_Bass frowned before sadly looking down where moments before his excitement had been evident. "You killed it Charlie. One mention of your Mom and you killed it." His eyes had gone wide with surprise._

_Charlie threw her head back and laughed that deep belly laugh that told him she was truly amused. He watched her with a slow smile, taking in the slope of her throat and the long tendrils of her hair. Without thinking it through too much, he reached out and put his hand on her arm. "Come here."_

_When Bass pulled on her arm gently, she moved closer. Charlie lowered her lips almost to his, whispering, "I'd hate to kill it before we even get a chance to be formerly introduced." _

"_Yeah, that would suck."_

_They were both smiling when their lips touched for the first time. It was soft and gentle while somehow also being heated and impatient. As their lips angled against each other and tongues met, they both knew in their hearts that this was right. This was real. They kissed for a long time – savoring this newfound closeness - tasting and learning each other. Nothing was rushed._

_Eventually Charlie ran her hand slowly down Bass's chest and across his abs before introducing herself properly. "Hmmm, looks like it's not dead after all…"_

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Rachel wakes feeling disoriented and unsettled.

"What's dead?" she asks Bass. He's sitting against a tree, and his eyes are closed but she'd heard his voice clearly.

Bass opens his eyes and looks at her strangely. "What are you talking about?" His voice holds an edge.

Rachel shakes her head, feeling the beginning of a headache coming on. "I'm sorry. I thought you said something…something about it being dead after all."

"I didn't say anything Rachel." He frowns. "But now that you're awake, we should get back on the road."

Rachel nods. They pack their horses in silence and make their way back to the trail they'd been following the night before. They ride without speaking for a few hours. The pace Bass sets is brisk. Clearly he has a plan and a big part of it is getting to Indianapolis as fast as they can.

Her head is pounding now and she's already exhausted. She shouldn't have come. She hates Monroe, but she knows he's lost momentum because of her. Rachel wishes she was back in Willoughby. If she were at home, this is when she would curl up in a dark room to wait out the pain. That's not an option today, obviously. The sun is beating down on them and they are riding along a river so the mosquitos are out in force. Rachel is looking out across the water when she hears another rider approach. Rachel looks over her shoulder.

"Ben?" she asks, shocked to see her husband riding up as if not a day had passed since she last saw him.

Ben nods and smiles. "Hello Rachel." His smile is warm and familiar and she can't help but smile back.

"It's so good to see you Ben. I've missed you. We've missed you."

"I miss you too Rachel. We had some good years."

"Yeah, we really did." She says.

Ben is now riding at her side. His smile fades, "It won't be long now. You know that, right?"

Rachel frowns and looks away for a moment. Her lips twitch and she fights the tears that threaten to fall. "Won't be long till what?" she asks in a whisper, even though she knows.

He doesn't answer, and when she looks up again, Ben is gone. Ben is gone, but Bass is riding beside her now. He's clearly irritated. "I told you to keep up Rachel. If you can't do that, I'm leaving you behind. We don't have time for daydreaming on this trip. Understand?"

"Sorry General." She bites out. "I'll keep up." Part of her wants to tell him she's sick, but a much bigger part of her doesn't want to give him the satisfaction. Monroe will probably do a happy dance when she dies. She just hopes the bastard doesn't have a reason to do that dance anytime soon. She digs her heels into the flanks of her white horse, urging the beast to speed up.

They stop for a quick lunch, and Bass takes care of the horses while Rachel puts together plates of cured meat and dried fruit for both of them. He takes his food from her in silence, sitting on a nearby stump to eat. Bass doesn't look at her but she can hear him anyway, "I'm really worried about Charlie. What if he hurts her? I'll never forgive myself."

This level of sincerity from Monroe is truly surprising. "I'm worried too." Rachel says with a frown, "I blame you for a lot, but even I don't think this is your fault." Bass has reacted to her words by standing suddenly. He's now directly in front of where she sits. His face is flushed with anger. "What the hell are you going on about?"

"What do you mean? We were just talking."

He just stares at her for a moment, before running his hands through his hair. "No we weren't talking. YOU were talking…to yourself. Are you having some kind of nervous breakdown?"

"No. I'm not… I don't understand."

"Earlier you were talking to someone who wasn't there. And twice today, you've responded to stuff you think I said when I didn't say anything at all." He holds up his hands, "What is going on with you? I get that you're stressed. So am I, but you're pissing me off Rachel. It's time for you to get a god damned grip."

Rachel takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I'm not having a nervous breakdown. I just get these headaches, and sometimes they're pretty bad. That's all." She starts putting things back into her saddle bag. Lunch is over. She knows he'll want to get started again soon.

"You should have stayed in Willoughby." Bass says angrily. When she looks up, he nods, "and yeah that was me talking, not one of your headaches. If you fuck this up and anything happens to Charlie because of you, the least of your worries will be hallucinations." Bass turns then and gets on his horse, ignoring the pain that shoots up his bad leg as he urges Roland forward.

She doesn't answer. Instead, Rachel squares her shoulders and mounts the white horse to follow him. She's starting to wonder if Bass is right. Maybe she should have stayed home.

Xxxxxxxxxx

President Frank Blanchard, Miles, and four other Texas officials are sitting around an old Formica table in an even older high school gymnasium in Arnette, Texas. Arnette is one of the six towns within the Matheson District. Luckily the contingent from Georgia had been willing to travel.

"We're gonna try to keep this brief, right Frank?" Miles is fidgety and nervous. He wants this over with.

"Oh calm the fuck down." Blanchard says with a laugh. "It'll be over when it's over and not a minute before."

Miles glowers at the older man, "Sometimes I really wish I'd been a better shot that time I tried to kill you."

Blanchard nods, "Yeah Son, me too."

Miles can't help but crack a smile at that, and Blanchard cackles happily. He is an odd duck.

There is some commotion by the main doors, and the men look up to see that their guests have arrived. Four men trail behind the lone woman. She is dressed in a sharp black pantsuit. Her hair is piled high on her head. She looks as out of place on this dingy basketball court as anyone could. She cuts an imposing figure. From this distance she is beautiful and elegant.

As she makes her way across the space, she walks through stripes of light that shine down from the yellowed skylights in the ceiling. Each flash of light brings into focus the flaws that distance had hidden.

She had been lucky, really. The bomb that hit Atlanta would have surely meant the end of her, but she'd been outside of town when the mushroom bloomed over her city. Not far enough to avoid irreparable damage, but far enough to avoid death.

She reaches the table and takes a moment to make eye contact with each man sitting there. They each smile and say hello in turn. Lastly her gaze falls to Miles. He meets it head on. She is different to be sure. The shock of white hair at her temple, the burns and scars that have turned the right side of her face and neck into a roadmap…somehow even with all the changes, Miles still sees the woman he knew before. He still sees a woman who meant a lot to him at one time.

"Kelly." He says with a nod. "Good to see you."

She holds his gaze. "Miles. It's been too long."

Blanchard clears his throat, "Well kids, as much fun as this little reunion of yours is, I do believe we have some treaties to discuss."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The news from Iowa is not good and Connor is in a mood.

The Plains Nation as a whole is crazy and untamed, but he'd been hopeful that they might have a chance. His men had started across the Mississippi with no problem, but had been met with hostility when they reached the western shore.

The War Clans in the area had joined forces recently, and this was proving problematic for Bennett's plans. The Muscatine Clan is populated by river rats, bargemen and hunters. They are known for their bravery and fearlessness. The CyHawk Clan is almost all farmers. They spend most of the year planting, tending, and harvesting their crops. The resulting corn fields are some of the best in the Plains. Half the production goes for food. The rest is turned into grain alcohol. It is the latter that has made these Clansmen filthy rich. If it was only the CyHawks, Connor thinks his men would have a chance to defeat them, but now that they have joined up with the viscous Muscatine Clan, all bets are off.

Three of Connor's men are still unaccounted for. Parts of four others were returned inside burlap bags tied to their horses.

Connor clenches and unclenches his fists, trying to calm his rapid breathing. As he begins to relax, he turns his hands palm up, staring at the tattoos on the insides of each forearm. One is an exact replica of his father's Monroe Republic insignia. By the time Connor had met Bass Monroe, the former General's tattoo had been burnt off, but Connor had decided to have one put on his own arm in honor of his father. In the exact same place on the other arm is the Bennett Republic insignia. It is a square with "BR" written in script across the center. He stares at one tattoo and then the other.

Connor feels a calmness settling slowly. He's starting to feel better.

Swiveling around in his leather chair he looks up at the presidential portraits that hang behind his desk. Both have been painted in luscious oils. One is of Connor himself, in his Bennett Republic dress uniform. His body is turned slightly to the side, though his eyes seem to burn into anyone viewing the painting. His expression is fearless and determined. A rifle is slung casually over one shoulder. The second portrait is of his father, Sebastian Monroe. The painting was completed by an artist who had copied an old charcoal sketch from the glory days of the Monroe Republic. President Monroe is also in dress uniform. The Monroe Republic symbol is evident on his arm band and on buttons at his throat. The General's eyes are cold and the smile that plays at his lips is cruel. He stands facing front, his swords hanging at his side.

Connor keeps both paintings on display because he feels they complement each other nicely, and because he wants to be ready. He wants to be ready for when his father comes to the Bennett Republic to rule at his side.

Connor turns back to his desk. Laid out before him is a map North America. The Bennett Republic is outlined with its current borders carefully detailed. He takes a thick black quill and dips it in ink. Carefully he traces the borders of what once was the United States, thus extending the Bennett Republic to match his fantasies.

Connor leans back in the supple leather chair and closes his eyes. He imagines a time when he and his father will rule together. He fantasizes about the power they will share, the empire that they will amass, the nations that will cower beneath them. His breathing quickens at the thought of running it all. The mere thought of that much power makes Connor hard.

With the smallest of smiles, he reaches down to stroke himself through the fabric of his pants. Power is his favorite fantasy, and he doesn't have any meeting scheduled for a while...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The second day on the road is far worse than the first had been for Charlie, Nellie, Chad and Bobby. The men in charge are complete assholes, and take great pleasure in torturing their prisoners. Whenever they stop to eat or take a leak, they make a point of beating one of the guys. By now they are both swollen and bloody.

Nellie is fairing worse than the others. The men have started taking her into the woods when they stop for meals. The first time Nellie was brought back after one of these trips, she had been sobbing hysterically. They had hit and kicked her then, until she'd finally quieted down. The second time she returned from the woods; she wasn't crying. She wasn't anything. She was still alive, but her eyes were dead.

Charlie didn't want to be beaten or raped, but she was bothered by one thing. While she watched horrible things being done to her friends, the men left her alone. Finally, she asked the blond who seemed the nicest of the bunch. "Why Nellie? Why do you guys like to hurt her so much?"

"Jealous?" he asks with a smirk. On closer inspection, Charlie can tell she was wrong. There's no niceness in this one either.

"No. Of course not. I just don't understand."

He shrugs. "You are worth a lot to us if we bring you back to Indianapolis mostly unharmed."

"Why?" Charlie is truly confused. She had given them a fake name, so it wasn't like they know who she is.

"Oh that's easy. You are a Charlie, and President Bennett pays top coin for Charlies."

She feels a chill run up her spine. "My name is Nora." She says firmly.

"Yeah, yeah. We know, but you see, Bennett has a type. It's kind of a kink, I guess. He likes leggy girls with long dirty blond hair. He calls them Charlies. He hasn't had one for a while, so we'll fetch a nice price for you." He grabs her hand without warning and she tries to jerk free. He is stronger though, and twists her arm painfully. "This." He points at the Monroe brand on her wrist, "This is why we'll get a bonus. Nothing gets Bennett going like his father's glory days." He nods toward Nellie, "Red over there is nothing special. President Bennett will have her killed within a week, so the fellas figure they should have some fun while they can." He laughs and the sound is hideous. "But you…. If you do everything Bennett tells you to do, you will last a while." He eyes her up and down, "A good while is my guess. He's going to love you, Charlie."

"My name is Nora." She says again as what little hope she had starts to fade away.

"Not anymore it's not." The blond says before walking back to the others.

Xxxxxxxxx

Aaron and Priscilla Pittman are walking hand in hand as they climb the steps that lead to the Sherriff's office.

"So you don't know why Miles wanted to meet us here?" she asks again.

"Nope. The messenger just said he wanted us here as quickly as possible, and you know me. Miles or Monroe ever tell me to jump, I ask them how high?" Aaron shudders dramatically, "They both scare me."

Priscilla laughs as he opens the door for her. Miles is pacing just inside. "About damn time Pittman." He growls. Turning away from them without explanation, he heads down a corridor. He glances over his shoulder and scowls when he sees they haven't moved. "Come on you idiots. I want to show you something."

They follow, stopping only when Miles does. He points to the jail cell they are now standing beside. Sitting in the middle of the jail cell is a prisoner. The inmate sits without moving, eyes closed.

"Hey, I think I know her." Aaron says, pointing. "Isn't that the President of Georgia?" he looks shocked.

Miles nods, "Yeah, you're right. That's not why I wanted you to come here though. Who she is doesn't matter really. Just watch." Miles seems antsy and nervous. It is unsettling.

They all stand watching in silence for several moments. "What exactly are we waiting for Miles?" Priscilla asks in a whisper.

"Just watch. It will be in just a – there! That's it! See that?" Now Miles isn't just nervous. He's animated, and almost giddy - pointing through the bars.

Priscilla and Aaron both watch, mouths agape.

The President of Georgia is no longer sitting on the floor in the middle of her jail cell. No. Now she's hovering maybe six inches off the floor.

"What the hell? Why did you call us? You should have contacted an Exorcist."

"Nah." Miles says, shaking his head. "I called exactly the right people." He points at the hovering President of Georgia. "'Cause I'll bet you anything that this is more of that Nano bullshit, and you guys ARE the Nano Exorcists. Now fix her so I can get those damn treaties signed."

Aaron holds his hands up in surrender, "Hey Miles, I'm glad you think we're the NanoBusters or whatever, but even assuming the Nano is responsible for this…." He motions toward Kelly, "It doesn't mean we can just fix her. I'm fresh out of proton packs."

"Shit." Miles growls, wishing Rachel was here.

"Well, he isn't saying we can't help you Miles, just that we need more information." Priscilla says.

"Yeah, she's right. What more can you tell us about what happened?"

Miles sighs heavily and sits down, "Oh I have plenty to tell. You might as well make yourselves comfortable."

Xxxxxxxx

Bass would rather keep going, but as the sun begins to set his leg is killing him and he can tell Rachel is really struggling too. "Let's set up camp." He finally says.

"I know you want to stay on the road. We don't have to stop." She sounds exhausted even as she says it.

"You're going to fall off your damn horse if we keep going." Bass is pissed. He hates that she came. He dismounts stiffly, rubbing at his thigh as he limps over to a thin tree. He ties Roland's horse's reins around the narrow trunk and then starts to look for usable firewood.

Rachel is still on her horse. She's watching him move around the area, picking up small branches and sticks. "I know you don't think I should have come along, but she's my daughter. I need her to know how much I care for her."

Bass grunts without responding further. Rachel dismounts and ties her own horse next to Roland.

"I do love her Bass. I know you doubt that for some reason."

He tosses an armful of wood to the ground and then kneels down to arrange it for the campfire. "I'm glad you are feeling all warm and fuzzy toward Charlie at the moment, but it seems like too little, too late. If you'd cared about her as much as you did Danny or the damn Nano, or Miles for that matter, maybe you wouldn't feel that you had to show her how much you care for her now. Then she'd just know." He stands and goes to his saddlebags for some flint.

"That's rich." Rachel taunts, "Parenting advice from the father of Bennett the Beast. Wow, I'd better take notes."

Bass whirls on her and takes a few steps closer. "You're right Rachel. I wasn't a good parent, but then I didn't know I WAS one till my kid was twenty-fucking-five years old. Is he screwed up? Oh yeah, and I'm sure some of that is on me, but not all of it Rachel. Emma could have told me we had a kid. She didn't have to ask Miles to ship him off to Mexico. He was screwed up before I ever knew he existed."

Rachel crosses her arms, "It doesn't matter Bass. It's in his nature. Look at what he's become. He's your carbon copy." Her eyes are cold.

Bass throws up his hands, "Maybe you're right. Maybe he is the way he is because of me. I'll tell you one thing though Rachel. If I'd known I had a kid, and he was with me all along, there is no way in hell I would have walked away from my child to meet up with an old flame. Did you even look back when you left your family for Miles? Did you care when she cried for you to come back? Argue nature vs. nurture all you like. Abandoned is abandoned, and Charlie didn't deserve that."

"You don't get to talk to me about what Charlie deserves. You don't know her well enough to have an opinion on the matter."

Bass smiles, but it is a cruel smile. "Think whatever you want Rachel. I know Charlie a lot better than you think I do. We've gotten pretty close while you've been playing house with Miles. I know her well enough to know she's not going to be all that excited to see you."

Rachel hears something in his voice that stops her cold. She has a sudden blinding pain in her temples and then she hears him plain as day, "I love her more than you ever will, you god damned bitch." The words are shocking and sickening to Rachel, but the thing that terrifies her more than knowing Monroe thinks he loves Charlie is that Rachel was looking right at him when she heard him say the words.

She was looking right at him, and knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that his lips didn't move. The words were his, she's sure of it. But they were coming from his head, not his mouth.

The pain in her own head ratchets up quickly and violently and she sinks into a fetal position on the ground.

Before she passes out, Rachel has one last coherent thought. She'll kill Bass Monroe before she lets him touch her daughter.

**Author's Note: Another HUGE thank you to dvpdvpdvp for the story inspiration, insight, and being my beta! And a special thank you to Iceonfire7 for being a good friend and a willing sounding board when I need one (pretty much every day! Haha). **

**If you have a moment, please leave a review. **


	3. Chapter 3

"This is more of your Nano garbage, isn't it?"  
>-Miles Matheson<p>

**Chapter 3**

At first Rachel isn't sure if she's waking up or dying. The light is blinding and the pounding in her head is almost unbearable. Slowly she forces her way through the excruciating pain and into full wakefulness. Even in pain such as this, her mind works quickly. She realizes she is lying exactly where she'd fallen. She can see her bedroll nearby. The white horse is tied to a tree maybe twelve feet away. Rachel sees all of these things in a moment, but these observations are all secondary to the other thing she can't help but notice.

Monroe is gone. That bastard has left without her.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Miles, Aaron, and Priscilla are sitting in Miles's office drinking their fourth pot of maybe the most terrible coffee ever – not that any of them have noticed. To say the evening has been surreal would be quite the understatement. President Kelly Foster had finally fallen asleep in her cell after about an hour of doing her best Casper the friendly ghost impression. A deputy is watching her now and has been told to alert them if her situation changes. Miles has told Aaron and Priscilla the story but still there are far more questions than answers.

"So can you fix her or not?" Miles asks.

Aaron sighs, "I have no idea Miles. I still don't understand what is wrong with her."

"And," Priscilla says, "Why are you so sure this is Nano related? It's nothing like we've ever seen the Nano do before."

"Well, what the hell else can it be? This isn't a cheesy horror movie. She's the President of Georgia for fuck's sake." Miles is frustrated and starting to really worry.

Aaron holds up a hand, "Hey it isn't that we don't believe you. We just don't get it yet. Maybe we missed something. Tell us again. Start from the beginning."

Miles sits down heavily, "Okay, so we were discussing treaty revisions. Everything was fine. Kelly suggested a trial period where both nations would reduce border patrols. Blanchard said he would be willing to give them livestock and crops in exchange of wagons and weapons. The drought this year has hit Georgia even harder than Texas. Anyway, Blanchard brought up an exchange of prisoners. They have a couple of our Rangers and we have a few of their soldiers. Everything was civil and friendly. We had talked for a few hours, but it was good…." Miles trails off.

"Until?" Aaron prompts.

"Until one of our guys mentioned the blast. He wasn't being a jackass or anything. He just asked Kelly if anyone was able to safely get into the fall out zone yet. The air currents around the gulf have made a lot of people think that it will be habitable before Philly is. So, this guy Phillips…. He was just making conversation really. What happened next was a surprise to all of us."

"And what was that exactly?" Priscilla asks, "Give us every detail."

Miles closes his eyes in concentration and sighs before speaking, "Kelly went kind of pale and she tried to talk but her voice came out weird and shaky. She said something about the cloud. She kept repeating something about the cloud. It honestly didn't make sense. I could tell though that her guys were getting nervous. It was like maybe they knew what she was going to do…"

"And that's when she turned into Linda Blair?" Aaron says.

"Yeah. No warning. One minute she was sitting at this old kitchen table someone had dragged in for our meeting, the next she's floating above us with her arms outstretched, looking down at us. It was the creepiest fucking thing I have ever seen. By then she was muttering even more, but it was all garbled and I couldn't really make out anything she was saying."

"Did the men with her say anything? You said maybe they knew what was coming?" Priscilla asks.

Miles shakes his head absently, trying to recall details. "Well, they said she'd been different ever since she got back. Honestly at that point we were all just trying to get her down. There wasn't a lot of talking. It took four of us to restrain her."

"Wait. You said they thought she's been different since getting back… back from where?" Aaron asks.

"Oh hell, I don't remember. Somewhere out west… Wyoming maybe?" Miles frowns, "No that's not it. Idaho! She'd been to Idaho and when she came back, they said she'd not been herself."

Aaron and Priscilla share a look. Miles picks up on it right away. "What? Does Idaho mean something to you?"

"What it means," Aaron says, "Is that you're right. This probably is the work of the Nano. It also means one other thing."

"What's that?" Miles asks.

"It's time we called in some reinforcements." Aaron answers.

"Rachel won't be back anytime soon. She and Bass are trying to rescue Charlie." Miles's frustration is growing with every second.

Aaron is standing to go. He reaches for Priscilla's hand before turning to Miles, "Yeah, well I wasn't actually talking about Rachel. There's someone else who needs to hear your story."

xxxxxxxxxxxx

This is what despair feels like. Charlie is sure of it. She still prays that Bass will find her, but she feels in her gut that time is running out. Her thoughts flash to her last conversation with him. He had begged her not to go on this mission.

"_Please Charlie, it's so dangerous. I need you to be here where I know you're safe." _

"_You worry too much. It will all be okay Bass."_

_His frown deepened and he ran a hand along his jaw. "You know why I worry."_

_Charlie kissed him lightly to reassure him, "I know, but I'll only be gone a week. After this one, maybe I'll look for assignments that will keep me closer to home."_

"_Maybe?" he frowned at her then. "You know I get a little unhinged if I think you're in danger. Especially now. No maybes. Promise me Charlie… after this trip, you'll finally take it easy? I can't lose you. You know I can't go through that again."_

"_You won't ever have to go through that again Bass. I promise. This will be it for a while."_

If only she had taken his advice, she wouldn't be in this situation now. Charlie knows she's a stubborn person. She comes by it naturally. Times like this make her wish she was less stubborn. God, she misses him. She misses everything about him. She wonders if she'll ever see him again. She prays that she will.

Charlie is worried about her fate, but she is more worried than ever for her friends. Their captors are starting to get bored and this means the beatings are more frequent and also more brutal than they had been in the beginning.

Bobby has multiple broken ribs and a big gash on his forehead that is never given a chance to heal between beatings. Chad has a broken nose and jaw. One of his eyes is swollen shut. He fades in and out of consciousness. Nellie is faring worse than the rest. The Bennett men don't even bother to take her into the woods anymore before violating her. Charlie said something once, crying out that they should just leave Nellie alone. In response, they had been more brutal than ever. Charlie hasn't said anything since. None of them have.

The men continue to ignore Charlie. They don't necessarily treat her well, but they don't touch her.

The four prisoners are in the wagon, bumping along the road when their captors start to talk about getting closer to Indianapolis. From what they say, Charlie guesses there is maybe a day of traveling left. Nellie evidently has picked up on this too. "So one more day till we get there. Maybe I'll get lucky and they will finally kill me. That would be good." Her voice is quiet and holds no real emotion. She isn't trying to be dramatic. She has given up.

"Shut up Red." One of the men says with a snarl. Charlie has started to call this one 'Asshole' in her head.

"Or what?" Nellie asks deadpan. "You'll rape me? You'll beat me? What else can you possibly do other than kill me yourself?" she leans back against the side of the wagon.

"I'm sure we can think of something." Asshole says.

"Does it make you feel stronger, bigger, more of a man when you hurt me?" Nellie stares at the guard with dead eyes. "Does it make you feel like a winner to hurt someone who can't fight back?"

He half turns in his seat, his face twisted with hate. "I'll feel like a winner when they put you in front of the firing squad. I'll know I've won when I see your lifeless body fall. That's when I'll win, you bitch."

"You'll probably get off on it too, I bet." Nellie says with a humorless smile. "You'll be whacking that tiny dick of yours as they cart me away."

He lunges at her then. Charlie catches her breath, realizing Nellie has been baiting him on purpose. She really does want to die and she doesn't want to wait till tomorrow.

"Stop it you dipshit." One of the other guards pulls him back into the seat. They scuffle for a minute before both finally settle, facing front. Neither had noticed amidst all the commotion that a small knife has fallen from Asshole's pocket into the bed of the wagon. All four of the prisoners see the knife fall, but none say anything out loud. Nellie reaches out with her boot and in a moment the knife is hidden from view.

xxxxxxxx

Bass knows he should probably feel guilty for leaving Rachel behind when something is so clearly wrong with her. He knows he should feel guilty, but he doesn't. The only emotions he feels toward Rachel Matheson are hate and regret. He hates the way she has Miles under her thumb. He hates the way she treats Charlie like second best. He hates her holier than thou attitude. He regrets holding her hostage all those years. He regrets visiting her quarters to tell her Miles was gone. He regrets sharing a bottle with her and he regrets the tears they shed together over the loss of the man that meant so much to them both. More than anything, he regrets sleeping with Rachel that night.

Bass remembers the day Charlie found out. He'd been so sure she'd never forgive him.

_They were lying in bed after a fairly exhausting round of lovemaking, when the inevitable question arose, "So Bass," Charlie asked, running her fingers through his curls. "How many women have you slept with?"_

_Bass closed his eyes, "I am never ever going to answer that question. Ask me something else."_

"_Are you not answering because you don't remember or you're embarrassed, or maybe you can't count that high?" she asked with a chuckle, clearly enjoying herself._

_He pauses for a moment. "The first two. I'm actually very good at math, Charlie."_

_Charlie laughed, "I know you've had a lot more experience than I have, but I'm curious. That's all."_

_Bass frowned at that, "Be curious about something else. It's too weird. I don't think I've known the answer to that question in a really long time."_

"_So what you're saying is you're a man-whore?" Charlie asked with a grin._

_Bass couldn't help but laugh with her. He hated the conversation but he was glad that she was taking it all in stride, "Retired man-whore." He corrected her. "I'm all yours now Charlie. You know that, right? There's never going to be anyone else for me." His eyes bored into hers and she nodded, seeing the truth in his gaze._

"_Who was your first?" Charlie asked then._

_Bass laughed, "Damn Woman, you are obsessed with my sexual history."_

_She shrugged, "Just curious. I'll tell you who my first was if that helps."_

"_Okay. Tell me."_

"_His name was Noah. He lived in our village. We were both fifteen. It lasted maybe 45 seconds. I was not impressed. Took me five years to decide I wanted to try again."_

_Bass smiled, "Unfortunately my story isn't much different. I was fourteen. Her name was Heather. She was a cheerleader and it also lasted maybe 45 seconds. The difference was that I did not wait five years to go again." He laughed at the memory._

"_Do you have any regrets?" she'd asked then. _

_He sat up then, moving to sit at the edge of the bed, "Jesus Charlie, who doesn't have regrets?"_

"_I regret sleeping with Connor. It was stupid and impulsive and shouldn't have happened." She waited a moment and when he didn't respond she pressed on, "Your turn." _

_He wasn't sure how to answer so he didn't. "Can we talk about something else? Anything else at all?" He looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes pleading._

"_Like what?"_

"_I don't know Charlie. Anything else."_

"_Okay." She responded slowly, "Let's talk about my Mom."_

"_Jesus." He put his head in his hands then, as he realized somehow she already knew. _

"_Any regrets there?"_

_Bass stood, bracing himself against the wall as sharp pain moved through his still healing leg. "Clearly you know the answer or you wouldn't be asking the question." _

_Charlie shook her head, "No Bass. I never knew… I just kind of wondered."_

_Bass sat back down, "I slept with her once. It was after Miles left the Republic. We both realized right away that it was a horrible mistake. What else do you want to know?"_

"_Did you love her?"_

_He looks up at her then, shock evident in his expression. "God no." He ran his hands through his curls nervously. "I can't tell you how many women I've slept with Charlie, but I can definitely tell you how many times I've been in love: three. Emma, Shelly, and You. That's it."_

_She lets out a deep breath she didn't even remember holding. "All right then. That's all I needed to know." Charlie smiled at him and reached out to pull him close. He moved into her arms, soaking up the love and forgiveness waiting for him there._

Bass is lost in his memory and is letting Roland do all the navigating as the pair makes their way through the brush along the river bank. When the horse stumbles, Bass is caught off guard and is thrown to the ground with an unceremonious thump. He cries out in pain as his bad leg slams into a softball sized rock. At first the pain is so acute; he's sure he'll pass out. He breathes in deeply, taking mental inventory. Nothing is broken – at least he hopes nothing is broken. His leg hurts like a bitch. The bone is probably bruised, and a fresh cut is going to need stitches. Eventually he'll have to find something to sew that up with, but he has no supplies right now. He pushes the flesh together with his fingers, trying to ignore the blood that oozes slowly from the cut.

Carefully he moves into a sitting position. He looks around and is relieved to see Roland nearby. He has no idea how he'll get back into the saddle, but at least the horse hasn't disappeared.

He sits motionless for several minutes, willing the pain to fade. It doesn't, so he pulls the flask from his pocket and drinks the contents in one pull. Then he lies back down and tries to relax. He'll need all the strength that he can muster if he wants to get back on the road anytime soon. An hour passes before he tries to sit up again. He stands only after dragging himself to a tree which he leans on heavily to avoid putting any weight on his bad leg. He has an old carrot in his back pocket and lures Roland close with the treat. It takes four attempts, but finally Bass is back on his horse, covered in sweat and completely exhausted.

Bass inspects his leg, prodding carefully with already bloody fingers. The bleeding has slowed, though the leg still throbs dully with every beat of his heart. He holds out his fingers and stares at them. The blood on his hand reminds him of Shelly, and a sense of foreboding threatens. His thoughts flit back and forth between Shelly and Charlie. Panic fights to overtake his thoughts, but he fights it off. Bass kicks Roland's flank with his good leg, urging the horse to find a quicker pace. They are moving along nicely when Rachel catches up on her white horse. Bass's and Rachel's eyes meet and hold. They don't speak, but continue to ride along the path next to the river. She pretends she doesn't see all the blood on his leg and hands. He pretends she doesn't look like death warmed over. They both pretend they are younger, stronger and healthier than they really are.

They focus on the road ahead and the only goal they truly share: saving Charlie.

xxxxx

Connor is smiling as he sits back in his big leather chair. His feet are propped up on the ornate desk. He's smoking a cigar, nursing a whiskey, and reading from a worn copy of Sun Tzu's _The Art of War_.

His relaxation is interrupted by a knock on the door. Connor's good mood immediately goes sour. "Who is it?" he barks.

Connor's assistant Dennis enters. He looks nervous. Connor sighs. This guy always looks nervous. "Sir?" Dennis asks.

"Spit it out."

"Sir, one of your soldiers is here to see you."

"As you know, I don't welcome soldiers to visit uninvited." Connor stands, planting fists on his desk, and glowering at the young man. "Was this man invited?" his voice is cold.

"No, sir. He wasn't. I'm very sorry, but I felt you'd want to talk to this one."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Well, he just got back from Iowa, Sir. I think he's the only one who survived the mission."

Connor takes a deep cleansing breath, exhaling slowly. "You're right Dennis. This is one soldier I want to see. Send him in."

In moments, Dennis ushers in a young man. He is gaunt and nervous. He doesn't look like he's eaten or slept in days. He stares at the floor.

Connor walks slowly around his visitor, taking stock. The sound of the President's polished boots on the hardwood floor echoes eerily through the space. Connor comes to a stop directly in front of his visitor. "Name?"

"Private Ronald Atkinson." He says, saluting his President.

"What news do you bring me from Iowa, Atkinson?"

"Well, Sir, it was bad."

"Explain."

"The Muscatine Clan has built all these hiding places and shelters out of sod. They've lined the western side of the river with them. Grass grows right over the top. They just look like hills until gun barrels stick out and the hills start shooting at you."

Connor leans back against his desk, arms crossed. "They've made sod dwellings that they use to defend their territory?" Connor is both angered and amazed. These Plains folks know how to use their resources.

"Yes. It's like Little House on the Prairie but with lots of guns. If you are lucky enough to get past the hills that shoot, there are forests and the forests are littered with these tree house things. I think maybe they were for hunting animals…."

"Deer blinds?" Connor asks.

"Yeah, I think so. More Muscatine guys are up in the trees. They do these bird calls to communicate with each other. Those guys use bows and arrows more than they do guns."

What if you get past the forests?

"Corn fields. So much corn you can't even imagine it. The CyHawks have men who patrol the borders on horseback. If they find anyone nosing around, they chase them into the corn. The fields are so big and the rows so long, people get turned around and can't find their way out. If they do, they get shot. If they stay in it, they die of exposure. We lost three to the corn fields."

"And then what?"

He shakes his head, "I don't know, Sir. The CyHawks caught me near the corn, but told me they would let me live as long as I came back and told you to stay away from Iowa. I think they knew I was the only one left."

"So these vicious clansmen just let you go?" Connor is walking slowly around Atkinson again, appraising. "They let you go, expecting nothing in return?"

Atkinson nods. Sweat beads on his forehead. "Yes, Sir."

Connor strokes his chin thoughtfully. "This is interesting to me, Private. It is more interesting to me than the hiding places made of sod. More interesting than the deer blinds and the corn. Do you know why this is so very interesting to me?"

"Sir?"

"Because I don't believe you. What did you tell them in return for your freedom?"

"Nothing, Sir, I swear."

"I still don't believe you." Connor says coldly. He takes a short sword from the scabbard at his hip and holds it to Atkinson's throat. "What did you tell them?"

Atkinson is crying now, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Please don't kill me, Sir."

"Tell me the truth and I might spare your life." Connor says into the Private's ear.

Atkinson takes a deep breath, "They wanted to know how big your army is and what your borders are and they wanted to know why you sent us to Iowa."

"And you gave them answers?"

"Yes, Sir. I'm so sorry. I had watched them cut four of our guys up with a scythe. I was scared."

"So now, these crazy Plains people know details about my Republic that previously they could have only guessed at?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Thank you for your honesty Private Atkinson." Connor wastes no time, slicing the man's throat in one smooth motion, letting the body fall. He leans over and casually wipes the bloody knife on the dead man's coat.

"Dennis!" Connor yells out.

"Yes, Sir," Dennis appears in the door way and tries not to look at the dead man on the floor.

Connor glares at his assistant. "Clean that up." He points to Atkinson's body. "And bring Charlie to my quarters. I feel the need to blow off some steam."

"Yes, Sir." Dennis answers.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Rachel is exhausted. They've ridden for hours in complete silence. Her head throbs and the pain blocks out whatever Bass might be thinking. Bass slows his horse and slowly dismounts. She doesn't need to read his mind to see he's in great pain.

He looks at her for the first time all day. "You got any thread? Bandages maybe?"

She nods slowly. "Yeah." She tosses him a small leather pouch.

Inside he finds a needle and some fishing line. There are also some bandages and a small flask of whiskey. Satisfied, Bass unceremoniously removes his boots and pants, sitting down on a fallen tree in only his shirt and boxers. He eyeballs the wound on top of the already scarred surface of his thigh. The cut is jagged and deep. He pulls the flask from the little pouch. He wants a drink but knows better, instead pouring the amber liquid over the open wound. "Fuck." He growls as the alcohol burns his torn flesh. He lets it air dry while he threads the needle with shaky fingers.

"Let me help." Rachel says. "It's never easy to stitch yourself up."

"I'm fine." Bass says, shaking his head. But when he goes to put the needle through his skin, he hesitates. She takes the needle from him and begins to sew. She is efficient and quick. Soon his leg looks better. He wraps his thigh with a bandage from the pack and carefully pulls on clean pants before putting his boots back on.

"Thanks," he mumbles absently. His mind is once again in the past, where it's been all day. Seeing the blood on his hands this morning had really brought Shelly to the forefront of his mind. He remembers her laugh and the corny jokes she liked to tell him. He remembers running his fingers through her hair and across her swollen belly. He remembers holding her as the first contractions had shaken her frame. He remembers the hope. He remembers the joy. He remembers how everything was gone in an instant. He remembers the blood and the crushing despair.

Bass sits staring into space as Rachel makes a fire and finds something for them to eat: apples from her pack and jerky from his. It's not a good dinner, but it will have to work. She settles in next to the fire and relaxes a little. Her headache is almost gone now and she starts to pick up on some of Bass's words and thoughts. She doesn't say anything. She wants to know if he's thinking about Charlie. He isn't. Rachel's brow furrows. Something about a woman from long ago. Curly brown hair. A baby on the way. Blood. Lots of blood. Pain. Agony. Grief.

Rachel shakes her head, hoping to clear the dark thoughts but she can't. He's focused on them completely and so, by default, is she. "Shelly" she hears his voice clear as day even though his lips don't move. "Shelly." Rachel looks at his face and is shocked at the grief she sees in his features. His emotions are raw in this moment and she looks away, somehow knowing he wouldn't want her to see him like this.

Bass has forgotten Rachel is even there. He's remembering Shelly's bloody and lifeless body. He's remembering the way the midwife had left the baby on her belly. He remembers cradling the tiny girl in his arms and sobbing. He remembers her sweet little face and the fuzz of hair on her head. He remembers stroking her chubby cheek. He remembers the odd silence of the tent. It should have been filled with laughter and the gusty wails of his infant daughter. Instead it was eerily quiet. He remembers it all.

Bass is staring into space when he hears Rachel's voice. "What?" he asks absently. He'd missed whatever it was she'd asked.

"Who is Shelly?" Rachel asks again, her eyes wide.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

A new day dawns and Charlie's eyes open to a beautiful view. The wagon is parked at the top of a bluff where they had camped for the night. A narrow stream winds through the valley below. She thinks it is usually a river but the current drought has taken its toll. The grassy hills are more brown than green, but even that can't take away from the beauty of the sunrise before her. Pinks and purples fill the sky around the emerging orange. Charlie hears birds singing nearby. She nudges Nellie without looking up. "Hey girl, you will want to see this."

Charlie glances over when she gets no response, and chokes back a sob that threatens to rip from her throat. Nellie's eyes are open and she is facing the beautiful view. At first glance the smile on her face might even be in response to this first glimpse of morning. But of course, it's not. Her skin is far too pale, and there is blood. Lots of blood. Her wrists are open though the flow has tapered. The knife is nowhere to be seen. Charlie reaches out and strokes her friend's cold cheek. "I'm so sorry Nellie." She whispers.

Charlie looks toward the guys then and sees they are both awake and watching. Bobby nods to the side of the wagon near where Nellie's body leans. On the smooth wooden planks, Nellie had made one last statement. In neat block letters painted with her blood are her two final words.

**I WIN**

The three surviving prisoners quietly watch the sun rise together. It is their way of honoring Nellie. They will be reaching Indianapolis soon, where their very survival is in question. Charlie is fearful of what lies ahead. She knows the Connor she will soon see is not the same man she knew long ago. She misses Bass so much it hurts.

Charlie closes her eyes, thinking of Bass, remembering happier times.

"_Tell me again, why this has to be a big secret?" He'd asked her. They were walking hand in hand through the woods behind his house._

"_My Mom and Miles… I don't know how they'll react, that's all. I don't want to put pressure on our relationship when it's just starting out. What we have is still too new, too fragile. We can face them when we have gotten used to it ourselves."_

"_Okay." He'd smiled down at her then with the crinkly eyes that made her all melty inside. "I really don't care who knows, as long as you do. You know I love you, right? With all my heart?"_

_She'd nodded, "Yes, I know. I feel the same way."_

"_Say it." His voice was low and his mouth hovered over hers. "Tell me you love me."_

"_I love you Bass Monroe. I love you with all my heart." She'd sighed happily as he dipped to kiss her. _

Asshole's voice breaks Charlie's reverie as he sees Nellie's lifeless body, "What the fuck?"

The other men are waking as well, and each peeks into the wagon to see what has happened. They move off to the side and talk for a few minutes. When they approach again, they order Chad and Bobby to bury the body. Charlie is ordered to clean the wagon. They give her a bucket of cold water and Nellie's shirt for the job. She does the best she can with the wagon's bed. She leaves Nellie's message. If they want it gone, they can get rid of it themselves.

Xxxx

Aaron and Priscilla have left the jail. Miles is watching Kelly while she sleeps. His deputy has gone home for a couple hours of sleep. Kelly has been awake off and on. Sometimes she is the Kelly he remembers. Other times she is confused and off. Sometimes when she wakes up confused, she also floats. Sometimes she doesn't. She has yet to reach the heights she'd achieved at the meeting. It doesn't matter. It creeps Miles out every time she raises even an inch.

"Miles?" Kelly is awake and he takes comfort in the fact that she knows him. That seems to indicate she'll be kind of normal for this conversation anyway.

"Hey Kel. How are you feeling?" He watches her closely as she rubs gently at the scarred flesh on the left side of her face.

"I guess I've been better. I don't remember why I'm in this cell Miles. Why am I here?" Kelly looks sad and lost.

"You were acting weird Kel, like really weird. We were worried for your safety so we brought you here."

She nods, "I haven't been feeling right since Atlanta was hit." Her eyes go soft, "Do you remember the way it was Miles? How beautiful my city was before…. Do you remember when you came down for that convention all those years ago? You stayed with me. You fed me strawberries and we made love on yellow satin sheets…."

"Yeah, I remember." Miles frowns. It all seems so long ago. "You led the delegation, and brought around the very first treaties between the nations. Damn you were fierce."

"If I remember correctly, you liked that about me." She leans her head back against the brick wall, looking very tired.

Miles chuckles, "Yeah, I always did like strong women."

"You got somebody these days Miles?" her eyes are starting to droop. She's fading.

"Yeah." Miles says softly, thinking of Rachel. "Yeah I do."

Kelly slumps back to the cot, sleeping soundly again. Miles runs a hand along his jaw. He's never felt so helpless in his life. He looks up when he hears a door slam. Aaron and Priscilla are back. They have brought someone with them.

"Hey Miles," Aaron says with a nervous smile. "I'd like you to meet Grace Beaumont."

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

"Who is Shelly?" Rachel asks again when Bass just stares at her blankly.

"How do you… How are you doing that?" He looks scared and worried and angry all at once.

"I don't know. Sometimes I think I hear your thoughts."

Bass stands, but the sharp pain in his leg stops him and he slowly sits back down. "Well, you need to stop." He sounds exhausted.

"Who was she?" Rachel presses, "I don't know why, but I feel like it's very important that I know."

Bass doesn't answer her for a long time. He just stares at the fire, trying to keep his mind blank. Finally he looks at her and Rachel can see the naked pain in his gaze. "She was my wife." His voice sounds raw.

"Your wife? I never knew…"

He shrugs. "Not many people do know about it anymore. Miles, Neville, a few others. She died before we formed the Republic."

"And there was a baby?"

Bass closes his eyes. His shoulders slump. "A little girl. She died too. Childbirth can be a bitch in a blackout."

Rachel sucks in a deep breath as his implication hits home.

Bass looks at her again, his gaze now cold. "Yeah, you see it don't you? You caused the blackout that cost me my family. Losing them made me go crazy and turned me into the monster you blame for Ben and Danny. We're quite a pair, aren't we Rachel?"

"I'm sorry Bass, for the baby. For your wife... I didn't know."

"Well, now you do." He stands then, doing his best to ignore the pain, moving to stand directly in front of her, "stay the hell out of my head from now on or I guarantee you'll learn things you don't want to know. Got it?"

Rachel nods numbly, trying to take it all in. She still hates him, but learning about this family he'd lost stirs something within her. She never thought she'd be able to relate to this man, but the pain she sees in his eyes matches the pain she feels when she thinks of Danny. She'll never forgive Monroe, but maybe she understands him a little now.

She understands why thoughts of his family make him sad. What she doesn't understand is why those thoughts seem so significant to him now, so many years after they were gone. And why do his thoughts of his long dead wife seem so intrinsically linked to his thoughts of Charlie? Something niggles at the back of Rachel's brain, but she's too tired to tease it out.

Rest. She needs rest.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Miles looks at the woman before him blankly, "Am I supposed to know you?"

Grace shakes her head, her expression serene. "No. I knew your brother and Rachel of course, but we've never met." She holds out a hand. "I'm Grace Beaumont. I was part of the DOD project team."

Miles nods, frowning. "Hello Grace Beaumont." Miles looks to Aaron and Priscilla. "She's your reinforcements?"

Aaron points to Grace, "Yes, and she needs to know everything. Tell the story again. She needs to hear it from you."

Miles slumps back into his chair and quickly goes through the story again. When he's done he looks up to see Grace appraising him carefully. "What?" he asks, irritated.

"You said President Foster had been to Idaho?"

"Yeah. That's what they told me."

"Any idea where in Idaho, or do you know why she went there?"

"Maybe. After they left the last time, Kelly woke up and I asked her some questions. She got kind of agitated about it, but she said she went to Brimley or Bradville or Bradford… something like that. She said she went because her Mom told her she should go." Miles frowns as if this piece of the story bothers him.

Grace smiles, "Let me guess, her Mom has been dead for a long time?"

Miles nods slowly, confused but also hopeful for the first time in days. "Yeah, exactly. Does that mean something to you?"

"Yes it does." Grace says, her voice calm. "Bradbury. That's the name of the town. I was there too for a while. I followed two neighbors who said they'd been talking to dead family members. These dead family members had stressed that traveling to Bradbury was very important – vital even. I was curious and went with them. Their behavior was odd to say the least, but I wasn't sure it was Nano related until we got closer to Idaho. The influx of people was impressive. Age, gender, station in life…none of it mattered. A cross section of the population was being drawn to that town. It was and is the creepiest thing I've ever witnessed."

"So how did you decide for sure that the Nano was responsible?" Miles asks.

"Because the lights came on." She says simply.

"What? Real lights?"

"Yes Sir." Grace says with a smile. "It was like Vegas. Every light in town came on all at once. After so many years of dark, it was beautiful."

"Tell him the other part." Aaron says.

Grace nods, "The people that were coming acted almost like robots. By the time they got to Bradbury, the pull was so strong it was like they no longer had a personality of their own. The Nano had taken over completely."

Miles runs a hand along his jaw. This is a lot to take in. "So why are you here Grace? And why am I just now meeting you?"

Aaron raises a hand, "That's sort of our fault. Grace has been staying with us, but she didn't want to draw attention to herself, so we haven't really announced her arrival."

"But why did you come here if you were all the way out in Idaho?" he asks, perplexed.

Grace frowns, "The zombie people in Bradbury were only half the story Miles. The other half is why I left, and why I ended up here."

"I'm listening."

"Some of the zombies were kicked out of Bradbury by the Nano collectively. It's hard to explain, but when I saw that happen, I knew I had to find out more. I followed a group that was exiled. Gradually, they split up. I don't know if it was an accident, or fate, or maybe the Nano knows something is wrong and wanted me to meet up with Aaron again… Whatever the reason was, the person I followed led me here."

"Wait. What do you mean something is wrong? You mean with the Nano?"

"Yes Miles. I believe that the Nano is slowly devolving. What I don't know yet is what impact that will have on us."

"Us?" he asks, pensively.

"The human race." Grace says with a sad smile.

"Jesus." Miles mutters, "Have I ever told you scientific sons of bitches how much I hate this Nano bullshit?"

Xxxxxxxxx

Her name is Annette Spalding, not that it matters today. Now that she's been summoned to the Bennett Headquarters, she'll be known as Charlie for the duration of her visit. She's been through this before. The first few visits had been rough and had ended badly for her. Now that she knows what to say and when to say it, it's really not so bad.

Dennis had led her to the bedroom. It's the same one she'd occupied last time and the familiar surroundings are a small comfort. Everything she will need has been laid out on the big bed. She carefully tucks her brown hair into the wig and dons the 'uniform' that has been left behind for her. Skinny black pants and a tight tank top. The only accessory allowed is a chain belt she slings low over one hip.

She knows how important it is to look right. It's even more important to act right. This is role playing at its most extreme. She won't know how to address him until she sees him. It's always a mystery to her how he chooses, but some things are very clear. She must follow his rules. Calling him by the wrong name in this type of scenario could be lethal. She must acknowledge him as he wants to be acknowledged. She must always remember to treat him with the respect a leader deserves – no matter which leader he chooses to be…. Annette reminds herself to be vigilant in her attention to detail. Playing the game correctly should save her from being beaten again or even worse - being taken to stand before the firing squad.

Other Charlies have had mixed luck with the role.

She settles into the soft contours of the overstuffed sofa and waits. She doesn't wait long.

The large double doors that face the big couch open abruptly. President Connor Bennett stands there, his lips curled into a cruel smile. He doesn't move, allowing his guest to appraise him before he approaches her.

Although she doesn't express any emotion outwardly, she takes note of the crisp blue uniform with the tiny silver 'M' buttons. She knows how this will play out. Annette takes a deep breath, before smiling shyly, "President Monroe."

Connor Bennett grins, pleased that she has greeted him correctly. "Charlotte, it's nice to finally meet you."


	4. Chapter 4

"You brought my kid down here Miles? This is nice. What'd you do, buy him a hand-job and an eight ball?"  
>–Bass Monroe<p>

**Chapter 4**

Charlie wakes with a fever and a heavy feeling in her chest. Within minutes of opening her eyes, her body is wracked by a violent coughing fit. Chad is exhibiting similar symptoms. They are both miserable. Bobby sticks to a far corner of the wagon in hopes of not catching whatever it is his fellow prisoners have contracted. The guards keep their distance too, throwing crusts of bread and a half full canteen of warm water into the back of the wagon for breakfast.

The bumping of the wheels along the rough road is jarring and soon Charlie is leaning over the edge of the wagon's side to vomit. Weakly, she slumps back into the bed of the wagon, her teeth now chattering, her body aching with chills.

"Stay strong back there Charlie." Asshole says with a rude smile. "Don't want to wear yourself out just yet. President Bennett will want to do that himself, and we'll be in Indianapolis by nightfall."

Charlie feels drained and cold, but she's not giving up yet. She leans up on one elbow and says, "You said you get a bonus for taking me to him, right? How big will your bonus be if I'm dead?"

Asshole turns to look at her, and sees she is maybe sicker than he'd first thought. "What do you want?"

"Food and water. Real food and clean water. We're never going to get better without that."

Asshole shrugs. "Fine. There's a town not far ahead. We'll stop there and get you a few things."

Charlie falls back to the floor of the wagon and closes her eyes, stifling another coughing fit. Up till now she's tried not to dwell on the thing that scares her the most. She's pushed that particular fear into the back of her mind and ignored it as best she can. She has been telling herself all along that she'd eventually figure out a way to escape, or that Bass would rescue her just like he always has.

But now that she's sick and weak, Charlie knows she won't be able to fight her way out, and the longer she goes without seeing Bass, the less likely it is that he'll rescue her. She bites her lip in an effort to hold back the sobs that threaten. She shouldn't be here. She should be at home getting things ready. She should be at home curled up in bed next to Bass. Why didn't she listen to him when he begged her to stay home? Why did she have to be so stubborn about the one thing that scared him the most?

No, Charlie shouldn't be here. She should be at home with the man she loves. She should be taking care of herself and getting the spare room ready. She should be curled up in Bass's arms while they argue over nursery colors and baby names.

Baby names. A baby. Their baby. This is the thing that scares her most… losing their baby. Charlie is mentally kicking herself now. What had she been thinking? Why was she willing to risk everything on that stupid mission? Why didn't she listen to him? Why had she been so hell bent on going on that trip in the first place? Bass had been so worried. Now she worries about him. Wherever he is, she knows he's beside himself with fear and dread.

She turns to her side and rests her palm carefully against the gentle swell of her belly. Nobody has noticed yet. Bass and Charlie had decided they needed to tell everyone they were a couple first. They wanted that to soak in before they broke the bigger 'baby on the way' news. This new life is their special secret, and now she fears they'll never get the chance to share it with anyone.

Xxxxxxxxxx

The early morning sun burns bright as Bass and Rachel ride north. Bass anticipates that it will take at least a couple more days before they reach Indianapolis. He can tell Rachel is struggling, but he doesn't ask. He is wary of talking to her. Right now she seems lost in her own thoughts which means she's staying out of his.

That's a good thing, because he can't shake thoughts of Charlie today. His mind is filled with memories of their last morning together.

_Bass fell back into the mattress, exhausted and out of breath, "Damn woman. You are killing me lately."_

"_Sorry." She said with a wicked grin. "Can't seem to help myself."_

"_I've noticed." he leaned up on one elbow to stare at her with a satisfied smile. "I'm not actually complaining you know. Death by large amounts of amazing sex with you is not the worst way to go." He kissed her softly before dropping back onto his back with a contented sigh. _

"_Large amount of amazing sex with you isn't too shabby either." She chuckled against his ear, cuddling close as he wrapped his arms around her._

"_Think of all the amazing sex you're going to miss while you're off on your mission." Bass frowned. "You should just stay here and we won't even have to get out of bed all week."_

"_Bass." Charlie's voice is laced with frustration, "You know I have to do this. I promised I'd go. I am not going to let my team down when they need me."_

"_What about me, Charlie? I need you too. I need to know you are okay. Both of you." His hand slides to caress her belly, which has only just begun to show the slightest curve of pregnancy. "You are my life. You are my future. None of this works without you. Now with a baby coming, I…" he shakes his head, fighting off emotions he doesn't want to deal with right then. "I guess I'm just remembering how fragile we all are Charlie. I need you to stay safe."_

"_I know how you feel. I know you worry. The Doctor said I'd be fine. I'm healthy and I don't even feel different yet. You heard him. He said that I could continue normal activities for at least another month or so." She looked at Bass and noticed the worry lines creasing his forehead. "Hey. Whatever happened with Shelly is not going to happen to me. You know that. This mission will be just like the ones that I've went on before. It will be boring and tedious and anything but dangerous." She placed her hand over where his rests on her belly. "We'll be safe."_

"_Normal activities don't usually include traipsing along national borders patrolling for enemies."_

"_They do for me. I'm going, Bass."_

"_Damn you are stubborn."_

"_Maybe just a little." Charlie began to nibble at his ear while running her hands across the hard lines of his chest._

"_What are you doing?" he asked with a throaty growl._

"_Well, like you said… I'll be gone for a week."_

"_Yeah, but Charlie there is no way I am ready for another…. Oh! Well look at that. Maybe I am."_

_Charlie grinned and pressed her lips against his. "I never doubted it for a minute."_

"What the hell?" Rachel jars Bass out of his memory. "Were you just…." She shakes her head trying to clear it. "Were you just thinking about sex?"

"Get out of my head!" he yells at her.

"You were!" Rachel frowns distastefully and rubs at her temples. Her head is throbbing but she feels like she needs to dig deeper. "You were thinking about sex. Who were you thinking about having sex with?"

Bass shakes his head with a jerky motion. No way is he having this conversation with her. "Nothing that happens inside my head is any of your damn business." He says with a growl.

"There was something there. I almost had it. Something I should know…" Rachel concentrates hard. She's never tried to listen to his mind on purpose. Always before, the thoughts have just come to her. She starts to pick up on something, but the pounding in her temples is getting harder to ignore.

When she breaks through and hears his thoughts, she's surprised to find he's not thinking about sex after all. She'd been so sure, but no. He's thinking names – names of people she's never heard of… Jason Varitek, Kevin Millar, Manny Ramirez, Johnny Damon, Curt Schilling, Bronson Arroyo, Big Papi…

"Who's Big Papi?"

"He was a power hitter for the Boston Red Sox."

"You're thinking about baseball?" Rachel is confused, and also suddenly light headed. She feels moisture on her upper lip and raises her hand to her face. Pulling it away, she sees the blood. Evidently trying to read someone's mind comes at a price.

"I was thinking about the 2004 World Championship team to be precise. It was an experiment."

"I don't understand. Why would you do a baseball experiment?" Rachel holds a handkerchief to her nose, trying to stop the bleeding.

"I wanted to see if I could control what you hear." He smiles. "Looks like I can if I know you are listening." With that, he urges his horse forward. When he doesn't hear any kind of sarcastic retort, he glances over his shoulder. "Damnit." He says before pulling the horse around so that he can get back to Rachel's side quickly.

Her nose is bleeding a lot. It drips down her face and onto her shirt. The handkerchief she carries is soaked through. She's swaying in the saddle.

Bass grabs hold of her arm. "Rachel!" he tries to get her attention, but she's just barely conscious. "Rachel!" he tries again.

Slowly she looks his way. Her eyes are glassy.

"Listen to me Rachel!" His voice sounds harsh even to his own ears but he has to get her attention. "My leg is messed up. There is no way I can put you back on this horse if you fall off. Either you hold on or I tie you on or you fall and then you're on your own."

"Tie me." She says. Her words bubble through the blood as her eyes roll up and she passes out.

"Damnit." Bass growls, holding her steady as best he can. He tries to ignore the jolting pain that surges through his injured leg as he leans awkwardly between the horses. He holds her with one arm while he reaches for a long stretch of rope looped on the back of his saddle. He leans Rachel forward so that her head is against the horse's mane. Bass ties her down like that, her arms looped around the horse's neck. She won't be moving easily, but she also won't fall off. It's as good as he can do considering his current limitations. Grabbing the white horse's reins, he leads Rachel's mount behind him as he continues north to Indianapolis.

Bass is worried. He wishes Miles was here. What good are a cripple and a crazy person going to be against a militia? He doesn't slow down though. Regardless of their current state, they have to save Charlie. They'll figure out a way. Bass and Rachel are the only cavalry that's coming, they can't slow down now.

Xxxxxx

Connor wakes slowly and stretches, opening his eyes only when his leg brushes up against someone lying next to him in the bed.

"Charlie." He murmurs softly, reaching out to stroke her hair. He stops abruptly, staring down at the dark brown tresses that are spilling out from under the wig. He frowns as the Charlie illusion fades. Connor stares at this girl lying in his bed for a few minutes. He's angry. She had one job, and that was to be Charlie. If she hadn't performed so wonderfully the night before in other areas, he'd kill her for letting this happen. However, no matter what her name really is, this is a talented girl and he hates wasting talent.

He decides to spare her. "Dennis!" he yells, startling the girl awake.

Dennis appears. "Yes, Sir?"

Connor motions to the girl, "Please make sure she's paid and taken home."

"Of course, Sir." Dennis says without emotion. "Come with me, Miss."

The girl who is not Charlie finds her clothes, dresses quickly and leaves without looking at her President. She seems to have picked up on his anger. Smart girl, he thinks. Connor sinks back into his pillows and sighs. It's going to be a long day. He might as well get started.

Xxxxxxxxxx

The Willoughby jail is quiet this morning. Miles is back behind his desk after a few hours of sleeping in an empty cell. Aaron, Priscilla and Grace have all returned after going home to sleep for a short rest as well. The four are now gathered in Miles's office.

"Okay Grace," Miles rubs his temples as he speaks. "When we stopped last night, you said that you followed someone to Willoughby. Who did you follow?"

Grace doesn't answer right away. Miles looks at her. She's busy looking at Aaron and Priscilla. He sees Aaron nod to Grace ever so slightly.

"What the hell is going on?" Miles asks warily.

"Well, you might not like this part." Aaron says with a guilty little smile.

"Just spill it. Who did you follow?" Miles is directing his question at Grace once more.

She sighs before answering, "His name was Edison. James Edison. He lived just outside of Willoughby on a little farm."

Miles closes his eyes, "His name WAS Edison? Shit. What did you guys do him?" When Miles opens his eyes again, he sees Aaron and Grace having another silent conversation. "Come on! What did you do?"

Grace faces Miles then, squaring her shoulders. "I killed him."

"You realize that I am still the damned Sheriff?" Miles slams his fists into the desk top. "You are sitting in my office, drinking my coffee, and you casually mention you murdered someone. Are you crazy?"

Grace shakes her head slowly, "I told you because you need to know about Edison, and because Aaron said you'll give me immunity."

Miles throws his head back and laughs before shooting daggers at Aaron. "Well first of all, Deputy Aaron Fife overstepped his bounds just a bit. He doesn't have any get out of jail free cards to give away today. Secondly, Texas doesn't grant immunity."

Miles stands and begins pacing. Aaron, Priscilla and Grace watch him silently. Finally he throws his hands up in the air, "Fine, you win. Tell me about this Edison."

"And you won't arrest me?" Grace asks.

"Well, that depends." Miles deadpans. "Have you killed a bunch of other people too?"

"Not here in Willoughby." She says carefully.

Miles grins. "Well played Grace Beaumont. You have my word. I won't arrest you for this. Now tell me the story about this Edison."

Xxxxxxxxxx

Rachel panics when she first regains consciousness. She's still tied to the horse, and the bindings are tight enough that she can only raise her head a few inches. "Help." She cries out weakly.

Bass slows his horse and circles around, stopping next to her. "Rachel, it's me Bass. I'm going to untie you now. Don't freak out or we'll both fall. Okay?"

She nods awkwardly against the horse's mane. "Okay."

He loosens the ropes and she sits up shakily, eyeing him with wide, scared eyes. "What happened? Why are we… Where are they?" Her confusion is evident in her expression. She looks lost and scared. Bass feels his stomach drop. Something is really wrong with Rachel.

"Who are you asking about?"

"My family, Bass." She says this as if it should be obvious. "Where is Danny? Where are Ben and Charlie?" Her eyes are wide and fearful. She looks at him as if they are old friends, and he holds the answer to everything.

"I think you need to just relax for a while." Bass fights off waves of nausea that threaten as he realizes she has somehow forgotten everything. He doesn't particularly want to be around when she starts to remember, but what can he do?

They ride in silence for a while, and then he hears something. He turns to see Rachel glaring at him. "Why was I tied to my horse?" Her tone is no longer friendly.

"You were going to fall off. It was either tie you up or let you fall. I gave you the choice. You asked me to tie you."

She snorts in disbelief. "How long was I out?"

Bass shrugs, "A few hours. You woke up a while ago and were confused. Are you okay now? Remembering things yet?"

"I remember that you usually don't let me out of my rooms at Independence Hall. I remember that you don't usually dress like a homeless person. I remember that we had sex last night and it was the biggest mistake of my life."

Bass stops his horse and stares at her. His mouth gapes in shock. "What?" he asks simply. "Rachel, what the hell are you talking about?"

Rachel squints at him, "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Something is wrong with your head Rachel. I didn't touch you last night."

"Yes you did. You came to my room to talk about Miles. You told me he'd left. I still don't believe you but I know you had an agenda. You got me drunk and…" she trails off, suddenly unsure.

"No. No. No." he says shaking his head. "First, Miles did leave when I told you he did. I did go to your room and we did get drunk and we did have sex. You're right it was a stupid mistake, but it was one we made together eight years ago." He turns away but then abruptly faces her again, "AND I'm not dressed like a homeless person. We've been on the road for days. This is what that looks like." He does turn then, urging his horse along the trail ahead of her.

"Eight years?" Rachel shakes her head. Everything seems foggy, "That can't be right." She kicks the flanks of her own horse until she's next to him. "What do you mean eight years?"

"Damnit Rachel, you are freaking me out. What is wrong with you?" He looks at her closely and sees the confusion and worry etched on her brow.

"Why are you lying to me?" she's yelling now. Her confusion has morphed into fury. "Why are you denying what happened…"

Bass does the only thing he can think of to jar her out of this weird state of mind she's in. He slaps her hard across the cheek. The force of the hit rocks her back. She almost falls from her saddle, but regains her balance at the last moment. She stares at him and he can see the reason returning. Bass has no idea how amnesia might work, but he can tell from her expression that she's remembering more now… maybe remembering it all. "I'm sorry." She says. Her voice is small. "I get so confused. I lose time. I'm sorry."

"Seriously Rachel, what is wrong with you?" he asks, his eyes digging into hers.

She shakes her head, "I don't know."

"You're a genius right? Surely you have an idea."

"Dad said it might be a brain tumor." She won't meet his eyes.

"So you're remembering your Dad now. Remembering everything?"

She nods. "I remember."

Their eyes lock for a moment. They are not friends. They aren't really even allies, but they both know that fighting each other won't help their mission. They both remember what is truly important here, and it's one thing they share. Charlie. They have to save Charlie.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Charlie is both burning up and shaking with chills when they reach the outskirts of Indianapolis.

"Won't be long now." Asshole says to the prisoners in the back of the wagon. Chad is no better off than Charlie. Bobby still seems healthy, though he refuses to acknowledge his captors.

Charlie pulls herself to a sitting position as they start to move through the city. She is coughing so much now, she can barely concentrate. She manages to take in the sights of buildings with broken windows, of signs and abandoned cars and ivy covered everything. She vaguely remembers the clean city streets of her childhood, but they are certainly nothing but a memory now. The few people she sees as they drive along are as disheveled as their city is. Charlie feels a new pang of worry creep through her gut.

They pull up into an enormous courtyard. A towering building sits at its center. She knows without asking that this is where she'll see Connor.

Asshole leans over the back of the wagon seat and leers at her, "Welcome home Charlie."

"This is not my home." She says in response before falling into a coughing fit.

He laughs as the wagon comes to a stop. "I'm pretty sure it'll be your home now."

Xxxxxx

"So Edison?" Miles prompts her.

Grace nods. "I followed one of the groups that were exiled. He was part of that group. I didn't think he knew I was following him, but I was wrong. He confronted me and he was acting very strangely. He could move things with his mind."

"What?" Miles disbelief is evident.

"Like I told you, all the people exiled from Bradbury by the Nano were showing different 'symptoms' or had new abilities. This varied by person. I followed him as far as Arnette, which is in your district, right?"

Miles nods.

Grace continues, "Well, Edison was showing some telekinetic abilities, but he had not really figured out how to use them yet."

"So what happened?"

"He tried to attack me with things. We were in an old office supply warehouse over in Arnette. All of a sudden, things were flying at me. Shelves, staplers, a desk chair… but some of the things wouldn't move far enough or fast enough to hurt me. He was getting frustrated I guess, and came closer so that he could hurt me with his hands. But there was this ink pen just floating near my shoulder. I grabbed it from the air and stabbed him through the eye. He was surprised, and then he was dead." Grace shrugs as if this was a perfectly normal story.

"You are an interesting lady, Grace Beaumont." Miles says, running his hands through his hair. "Okay, so you killed him more or less in self-defense?"

"More, I'd say." Grace says with a small smile.

Miles nods. "Yeah. I guess so." He watches her for a minute, trying to organize his thoughts. "So you said last night that the Nano is breaking down or something? What does that have to do with this guy you followed and killed? What does it mean for us?"

"Well, first remember it wasn't just Edison. At least four hundred of the people who were drawn into Bradbury while I was watching were kicked out as soon as they got there. And quite honestly, I don't think they were the first. From what I've gathered, this has been happening for two years, but the groups getting rejected are getting bigger."

"So the Nano has been breaking down for a while?"

"That's what I think, yes."

"So why were these people singled out?"

Grace nods, "I'm pretty sure it's because the Nano didn't know what to do with them. These folks that got kicked out were different than those who were allowed to stay."

"How so?" Miles asks.

"When the Nano takes on a host body, the body doesn't usually know what's happening. They are aware only of an alternate reality that the Nano creates for them based on the thoughts and memories they can access."

Aaron jumps in, "For me, I was living in my penthouse with Priscilla. I was eating frozen waffles, drinking Bud Light and going to the office."

"For me it was spending quality time with my daughters." Priscilla says with a sad smile.

"But," Grace continues, "On the outside, they still seemed like Aaron and Priscilla – at least for the most part. Sometimes the Nano has trouble with conveying the correct emotions, but generally they can mimic human behavior remarkably well."

"Ok. So that's when it works right. What about when it doesn't?"

"Right. So guys like Edison never went into an alternate reality. It was like the Nano short circuited. Instead of connecting properly to the part of the brain they wanted to control, they connected to something else. This unintended connection brought about unusual results. No two people I saw were impacted the same way."

"The powers?"

"Yes. Edison was able to move things with his mind. Another man I saw could read minds. A woman claimed to tell the future. There were others, but you get the idea."

"So the Nano gave them super powers but is unable to control them? Do these people know something is wrong?"

"Yes." Grace says, "I think they do. I don't think they have any idea what the Nano is, but I do think they feel something is going on. I heard Edison complain of headaches. He said he felt weird. He was often confused. I think he knew something was going on even if he didn't have a name for it."

"Did they realize they had these new powers?"

"The people I encountered all understood that they could do something new, but many of them either couldn't control their new powers or couldn't figure them out. Natural selection thinned the herd. Many others fell to suicide."

"So the Nano wasn't able to connect to these people. Any idea why?"

Grace nods. "I'm pretty sure that something was wrong with their brains before the Nano ever got to them."

"Like?"

"Mental illness or brain injury. The people I saw all appeared to have suffered from one or the other prior to being possessed by the Nano."

"So you're thinking Kelly was one of these outcasts?" Miles asks.

"Yes, that's my guess." Grace answers. "Do you know if she's had any history of mental illness or maybe has some sort of brain injury?"

"She got hurt pretty badly when Atlanta was hit. I don't know if it messed with the inside of her head or not, but you saw the damage it did to her face and neck."

"That makes sense. Now this is just my theory mind you. I haven't done the research to back it up fully. I'm not even sure that I can."

"Spill it already. I want to know what's going on." Miles is losing what little patience he has left.

Grace takes a deep breath, "I believe that the Nano made a critical error in controlling too many humans at once. It manages all right if the host body is healthy, but if there is any kind of mental defect, the Nano can't connect properly to the host's brain. Maybe it could have compensated at one time, but now its power is too diluted to adjust as it once might have done."

"So why aren't people with mental problems everywhere floating or walking through walls?"

"Because the Nano didn't choose all of them. The weird stuff only happens when two equally important things occur. First, the person must have an existing mental defect, injury or disease. Second, that same person must be possessed in some way by the Nano. One or the other won't cause the strange powers to emerge. It has to be both."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Connor is sitting behind his desk when he gets word that his men are back from Texas and that they have prisoners in tow. He stands and briskly walks down the corridor with Dennis just a few paces behind. They enter the courtyard in moments and see the four soldiers who have returned from Texas. Connor is irritated. "Where are the others?"

"We lost everyone else in a skirmish near the Texas border. We did manage to take out a lot of their men, Sir. We also brought back some prisoners."

"Where are they?" Connor asks with a frown.

"In the back of the wagon, Sir." He raises a hand to stop Connor. "Two of them are pretty sick, Sir. I wouldn't advise getting too close."

Connor looks into the back of the wagon and sees the two men. One is sitting up straight, staring forward. He looks generally healthy. The second man is curled into the fetal position and he's moaning. His skin is flushed and his eyes are glassy. Then Connor sees the woman. He knows it's her with one glance at the hair. Unlike what he woke up next to this morning, this is the real deal.

He moves around the side of the wagon to get a look at her face. Her eyes are closed but its her. Charlie Matheson is here.

"We thought that one might be to your liking, assuming she gets better." One of the soldiers says, "She has the brand and everything."

Connor turns to the soldier with an unusual genuine smile. "You brought me Charlie." He says with a chuckle.

"Yes, Sir. She's the best Charlie we've ever found."

"No, you don't understand. This isn't A Charlie. This is THE Charlie. You all deserve a reward. Go clean up and take the next two days off. Go to town. Get drunk. Get laid. You deserve some frivolity." The men look at each other smiling before saluting their President and walking toward their quarters.

"Dennis?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"This is Charlotte Matheson. She is to be treated with the utmost respect. Send for my personal physician and put her in the yellow suite. Send Magda and Annie to help bathe her and get her into bed so that she can rest."

"Yes, Sir. What about the men?" he nods to the wagon.

"Today is Tuesday, isn't it? Put them out of their misery."

Charlie hears his words and although she is weak and achy, she struggles to sit up. "No Connor. Don't hurt them."

He shakes his head, "Don't worry your pretty little head about them Charlie. You just need to rest."

Too weak to fight, she is ushered into a suite of rooms on the fourth floor of Connor's headquarters. The rooms are plush and beautiful, but all Charlie feels is dread and misery. Two women bustle in and help her bathe in a big copper tub. They are kind and gentle. Annie is young and has bright red hair. The red hair reminds Charlie of Nellie and she has to fight back tears. Magda is elderly with white curls and tiny round eye glasses. Magda washes Charlie's hair while Annie lays out a long white gown of the softest cotton.

"How far along are you sweetie?" Magda asks in a soft voice when Charlie stands shakily to dry off, holding a fist weakly before her mouth as she coughs.

Charlie closes her eyes tight. She shakes her head. "I don't know what you are talking about."

Magda clucks a bit, and then says, "I had seven of my own. I know what a baby bump looks like." She smiles. "But don't you worry Sweetie. I won't tell."

They don't talk any more. When Charlie is clean and dry they help her dress in the white gown and tuck her into the soft bed. She has almost drifted off when Connor's doctor comes in. He is in his sixties and reminds Charlie of her Grandpa. He examines her and makes some notes in a small book. Charlie gets teary eyed when he pats her on the head. "You have pneumonia Charlotte. You need to rest, drink lots of fluids and take the medicine I'll leave with Magda."

He starts to turn, but Charlie stops him. "This medicine. Will it be safe?" Furtively, Charlie looks at the door. It remains closed.

"The medicine is safe for you to take. Assuming you get the rest you need and take it as I direct, you and the baby will both be fine." He glances over at Magda and they exchange a glance. Then he looks back at Charlie, "I wouldn't tell General Bennett about the little one just yet though, okay? He doesn't always react well to surprises."

Just then there is an echo of gunshots from the courtyard below.

"What was that?" Charlie asks.

Magda looks pained. "It's the firing squad Charlotte."

As they leave, Charlie rolls to her side, curling as best she can into a ball, her hand on her tummy. Tears stream down her cheeks. She lies there thinking about the friends she's lost this week. Gonzo, Nellie, Chad, Bobby and the others who never even survived the battle. She closes her eyes tight, and wishes for Bass. She misses his smile and his laugh. She misses his voice and his touch. She misses him more than she'd ever have thought possible.

Quietly she cries herself to sleep.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Priscilla, Grace and Aaron have left the Sheriff's office. They are going to brainstorm possible solutions. Aaron says he has an idea but that they will need to talk it out.

Miles is sitting beside Kelly's cot in the cell. She is doing okay this afternoon. She is lucid, though very tired. He is getting worried. Georgia is chomping at the bit to get her back, but Aaron thinks she may be the key to figuring out what's wrong with the Nano. Blanchard has agreed to let Miles keep her for a couple more days. Miles just hopes that is enough time.

The situation is fragile. This Nano business is scary, but so it the threat of war with Georgia, and that is growing more likely by the day. This is all throwing a big wrench in the Georgia/Texas treaty negotiations. He's worried. They just don't have time for another damn war. He's scared for Charlie's well-being and for Rachel's health. He wishes he would hear from Rachel, Charlie or Bass. He wants to be with them. He wants to know they are safe.

Kelly sighs softly and Miles looks at her. He'd been lost in thought. It takes effort, but he focuses on her fully, "You should eat something." he says, nodding to the plate he'd brought in earlier.

She picks it up and pokes her fork into the beans before putting it back down without having taken a bite. She looks at him, "Why didn't things work out with us?"

"Back then?" Miles shrugs, "The fact that our jobs kept us hundreds of miles apart was a pretty big obstacle."

"Sometimes I wish I just would have quit. Gone up to Philly and been with you."

"We made decisions. Things happened. We changed."

Kelly smiles sadly, "Tell me about her Miles."

"Who?"

"This woman you love."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bass wakes early, and stares at the sunrise. As he saddles both horses, he admires the colors of the morning sky. He wishes Charlie was here with him to enjoy this view. He misses her so much and he is so worried about her. His gut churns with dread. Sometimes he can push it to the back of his head, but at other times it's big as life and he thinks his heart will explode with the fear. He thinks back to the day not so long ago when everything changed.

"_So, you're sure?" Bass asked the man they'd driven an hour to see._

"_Well, it's sort of my job." He said with a chuckle, "Yeah, I'm sure."_

"_How far along is she?" _

_The doctor looks thoughtful, "My guess is eight weeks. Could be ten."_

"_You know I'm right here. You can talk to me." Charlie says to them both._

_Bass wraps an arm around her shoulders, touching her belly reverently with his free hand. "Our future lives in here."_

_Charlie had smiled at him in that moment and it was a smile he will never forget. Sheer happiness and hope radiated from that smile. She had reached out and touched his chest, her hand still over his heartbeat. "And our future is also here." Then she had moved her hand to her own heart, "And here."_

_He had kissed her and the doctor had excused himself with a grin. When they left the office a few minutes later, they were holding hands and smiling. In that moment the world had seemed full of hope._

Now he yearns for that feeling of hope to return. He is so scared and so worried. He hopes Charlie is okay. He hopes their baby is okay too.

"Charlie is pregnant?" Rachel sounds distraught. She'd woken up only moments before but had been immediately overwhelmed by Bass's thoughts. She sits on her bedroll, staring at him blankly for a moment. "That's why you kept thinking about the wife and child you lost. You are afraid…" She trails off.

He doesn't answer.

Rachel collects her thoughts, returning to the most disturbing piece of news, "She's pregnant and YOU are the father?" She shakes her head as if this information simply does not compute. "This can't be possible."

"It's possible." Bass says with a frown.

"But how…"

"I realize it's been a while since you were in a healthy relationship, so maybe you don't remember how it works. Charlie loves me. I love her. I love her with all my heart. We've been together for months. We only didn't tell you because, well, you're you and you go crazy sometimes."

"So you weren't going to ever tell me? Does Miles know?"

"Miles doesn't know either. We were going to tell everyone next week." His expression shows the devastation within.

"I just can't believe it. Charlie is pregnant…"

Bass is too tired and too worried to argue with her now. "Yeah Grandma, Charlie and I are having a baby. Deal with it and follow me or stay here. I don't care which. Your choice." With great effort and much pain, he hoists himself into his saddle. "I just want to get to Charlie."

Then he urges Roland forward, leaving an open mouthed Rachel behind.

Xxxxxx

Charlie is covered up under soft quilts, having only woke minutes earlier when Connor comes in. He gives her a cheerful smile that reminds her of sweet Connor from long ago. "Charlie, I'm so sorry you're sick. Is it okay if we talk?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, but pulls a chair to her bedside. Charlie shrugs. Obviously she's in no position to tell him no.

"Listen, I want to apologize for the way things ended back in Willoughby. I left without really saying goodbye to anyone. I'm sorry that I didn't talk to you before I left town. That was a mistake and I regret it." He tilts his head to one side, watching her. "I'm hoping we can reconnect now and put all that behind us."

"We are not reconnecting Connor. You killed my friends, and besides I'm with someone now."

"That is interesting." Connor's smile fades. "Well, it doesn't matter at the moment. There's no hurry. My first priority is getting you healthy. We'll talk more when you are feeling up to it." He stands as if to leave, but she stops him.

"Why me Connor? Why this weird attachment to me?" She is truly confused.

His smile returns, but it is cold. "My Dad wanted you Charlie. Did you know that? He had the biggest hard on for you and I seem to have some issue with wanting all the things he wants or ever wanted. I guess it's sort of like his desire to have everything Miles ever had, including Miles's approval. All I want is my Dad to rule at my side and yeah, I want you because he did. And the fact that having you would piss off Miles…well that's icing on the cake, Charlie. Icing on the cake."

"Well you need to want things you want, and stop looking for something your Dad might have wanted. And why do you hate Miles so much anyway? Was it because your dad followed him instead of going off with you?"

"No. That's not it at all. I've hated Miles Matheson ever since he took me to Mexico. Dad picking him over me didn't help of course, but I hated Miles from the first time I ever saw him. I was young… ten maybe. Mom was worried and had written to him asking for his help, and he came running."

"She was afraid your Dad would hurt you if he found you?"

He chuckles, "That was the official story, but no. She was worried I would hurt her. I had this little hobby you see, and it bothered her."

"What kind of hobby?"

"Well, I liked to take care of small animals, especially sick or injured ones. I'd nurse them to health and then I would kill them in interesting ways." Charlie feels a shiver of dread slide down her back as he shrugs. "This bothered my Mom. She was afraid of my Dad somewhat I suppose…afraid I was crazy like him. Maybe I am. Who knows?" He laughs as he tells her this story. He is acting as if they are the oldest of friends and this is normal conversation. Charlie feels dread seeping into her heart.

Connor continues, "Anyway, she felt she could trust Miles so she wrote to him. He came a few months later. Mom said goodbye and that was that. She sent me to her brother in Mexico. He'd been a therapist before the blackout. She thought he could help me." He frowns as if this part of his story is one he doesn't like. "It took us weeks to get there. Miles got tired of me trying to run off so he tied a rope around my waist and held on to it at all times. He took me to my Uncle's house and left me there. He didn't even stay to see if they were decent people or anything." Connor's tone has turned bitter.

Charlie feels she must defend her uncle. "Your mom surely knew your uncle well enough to trust him."

"Sure, she trusted her brother, but they hadn't seen each other in years. They'd been estranged long before the blackout. My uncle said mom was just lucky they still lived there."

"So are you saying they were mean to you?" she asks. "I thought you said once that you liked them."

"They were okay." Connor shrugs. "I didn't like them or not like them. They had a lot of rules but they were nice enough."

"How long were you with them?"

He thinks for a moment, "I was with them two years, I guess, before they died. Not one day passed where I didn't wish I was still back home with my Mom. I never did forgive her for giving up on me, and I never forgave Miles for taking me down there."

"How did they die?" Charlie has a feeling, and she hopes she's wrong.

"I'm not sure really. They both got really sick. I tried to take care of them, but I was just a kid. My Uncle died. Two days later my Aunt did too. I asked a neighbor for help burying them and that asshole kicked me out and took our house. I was forced to live on the streets for almost a year before Nunez found me."

Charlie shakes her head, "I don't understand. You had people who loved you. It sounds like even Nunez loved you. Bass wanted nothing more than to build a relationship with you. What happened to turn you into this? Why are my friends dead?"

He stares at her silently for a while. "This is who I am Charlie."

"But you were so different when I met you. You were kind of sweet. Was that an act?"

He laughs. "I am pretty good at acting sweet and innocent when I want to. It's a gift really. As soon as I saw you I knew I had a shot if you thought I was a naive country bumkin. It was so clear that you were surrounded by alpha dogs who didn't respect you. You needed someone you could feel stronger than for a change… so I played dumb and poured on the charm and the rest is history. Never did figure out why you cut things off after just the one time though. Once was not enough for me." He smirks at her suggestively.

Charlie is fighting the urge to gag. "It was a mistake. I was interested in someone else at the time. I never should have slept with you. Never."

"So you keep mentioning this other man. Pray tell, Charlie. Who is he?"

"I'm not going to talk about that." Charlie says with finality.

Connor's eyes narrow and then he frowns, "Fine, Charlie. Have it your way." Then he calls over his shoulder, "Dennis! Bring me Tom Neville."

**A/N Sorry for the delay. This chap was a beast to write. Please review if you have a moment. **


	5. Chapter 5

"If she turns the power back on maybe she saves the world or maybe she sets it on fire."  
>– Grace Beaumont<p>

**Chapter 5**

They can see Indianapolis from their camp. Bass is awake long before Rachel stirs. They had decided to camp instead of moving forward last night simply because it was getting dark. Bass wanted to get a good look at what they were dealing with before they went in.

His leg is finally feeling a little better, but he still shifts his weight to his good leg whenever he can. He's leaning against a tree, watching the city below through an ancient pair of binoculars as the sun rises. Most of the old city is in ruin, but a section around the old capital building – maybe a mile square – has been cordoned off with tall walls reminiscent of what they'd left behind in Willoughby. Within the walls, the buildings appear to be fairly well cared for. Outside the walls, poverty and squalor are evident. Bass feels a clench of guilt, remembering similar areas in Philadelphia during the height of the Monroe Republic.

Bass focuses his gaze on the old Capitol. Clearly this is Connor's headquarters. He has no idea if Charlie is inside or if she's even still alive. He tries to shake that thought. Losing Charlie and his baby is not something he is willing to even imagine right now. Bass fears that the blackness would return if he suffered that kind of loss again. He has worked so hard to leave General Monroe behind, and he fears that the blackness will return if he loses his family again. He suddenly feels sick to his stomach and leans on his knees to steady himself. Bass needs to eat, but fear has killed his appetite. He needs to sleep but nightmares keep his eyes open. He feels old and broken and wonders how he'll ever be able to save her…assuming he even still has time.

He has been so lost in thought that he doesn't even realize that Rachel is awake until she's standing beside him. She reaches out a hand, indicating she wants the binoculars. He hands them to her without speaking.

She watches the city as he had for a moment before lowering the binoculars and looking at him. "I'm sorry I freaked out about you and Charlie. I still don't like that you are the one she's with, but I can see how much she means to you…how much they both mean to you."

He nods, suddenly unsure he can even speak without breaking down.

Rachel continues, sensing his distress, "I loved my babies. They were both so wonderful and sweet and I loved every minute of holding them and touching their tiny toes and smelling their sweet skin." She stares into the distance, lost in thought. Bass is struck by the unfamiliar expression of sincerity he sees in her now. It's been a long time since he saw anything other than contempt on her face. Her voice is soft when she speaks, "Bass, I want to meet your baby - my grandchild. I want to have another chance. I want to make up for all I did wrong with my own children. I just hope I live long enough to do it."

Bass looks at her, his eyes glassy. "I hope we both do." They both turn to watch the city again, watching in silence.

Living long enough to fully enjoy his child's life has been a concern for Bass since Charlie first told him that she was pregnant. He'd been overcome with countless fears in that moment – many relating to his experience with Shelly, many because of Charlie's risky job, and many because of his age. Bass had immediately insisted on taking her to a doctor. She wouldn't go see her Grandpa of course, so they'd decided to drive an hour away to visit someone who wouldn't blab to Rachel. Even after the doctor had helped calm his fears relating to the good health of both Charlie and their unborn child; the age issue had still pressed on his mind. He's coming into this round of fatherhood as a middle aged man. He knows the odds are not in his favor. Even if he were perfectly healthy – which clearly he isn't – he'll likely die at least twenty years before Charlie. Without the aid of modern medicine, life expectancy is shorter to begin with. He'll be lucky to get twenty more years, and that's assuming Connor doesn't kill him when the try to rescue Charlie. He remembers having a conversation with Charlie in which he'd stated his concerns. He takes comfort now, as he did then, in her answer…

"_You worry too much Bass." They were lounging on the sofa in his living room, Charlie nestled against his side._

"_I'm going to be the oldest Dad ever." He frowned, clearly bothered by this._

"_So what? Maybe you'll also be the best Dad ever. That's the part that matters. Be a good Dad… a Dad that our kids will remember. Even if they don't have you around for as long as they'd like, at least they'll have you for a while."_

"_Kids, plural?" he shook his head. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."_

"_Yeah, kids plural." She grinned up at him then and he couldn't help but smile back._

"_I guess if we have more kids, you'll have someone around when I'm gone."_

"_Damn it Bass!" Charlie swatted him lightly. "Stop with all this morbid talk."_

"_I'm just being honest Charlie. I'm twenty-five years older than you. We're not going to have a happily ever after."_

"_You're wrong." _

"_How can you say that?"_

"_Happily ever after isn't at the end. We are having our happily ever after right now. We have it every day that we are together. Nobody is guaranteed happiness Bass. People that are the same age don't always die at the same time, and just because you are older doesn't mean you will die first. I could – "_

"_Don't even say it." He interrupted her. _

"_Fine. Listen all I'm saying is that it doesn't matter. I don't care that you're older. All I want to do is live every day with you like it's my last. That way when the last one comes, I won't have any regrets."_

"_How old are you again?" Bass stared at her, in awe of her positive outlook. He struggled to match her life view, but he agreed that every day they had together was a blessing._

Bass squares his shoulders. It's time to man up. With any luck, his happily ever after is waiting for him within the city walls below….

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Connor had first teamed up with Neville back in Willoughby, it had been out of necessity really. He was irate with his Dad and didn't have anyone else to turn to. It seemed that everyone wanted to fight with _Saint Miles_ against the big bad Patriots - everyone except for Tom Neville. This made Connor's choice an easy one. He had joined forces with Neville without thinking it through too much. The truth was he didn't even really know the guy all that well. He had known him well enough though, that when his traveling companion had started acting weird, Connor was instantly on guard. He'd watched as Tom talked to his dead son, and muttered jibberish about Idaho. The crazy came in spurts. Neville was back and forth between being coherent and being stark raving mad on an hourly basis.

The version of Tom that most interested Connor was the one that didn't talk to ghosts. That Tom – who came and went without warning – could read Connor's mind, and sometimes was able to predict the future. It was fascinating, and Connor was intrigued by the possibilities this strange power might provide.

By the second week on the road, Connor had a plan and was ready to make a move. Through trial and error, Connor had determined that Neville was least alert of his surroundings when he was eating. He was so focused on his food – not enjoying it, merely ingesting it systematically, that he never paid attention to Connor. On one afternoon, while Tom ate directly from an old can of beans with a spoon, Connor had bashed him on the head and tied him up while he was out cold.

After Connor had Neville in captivity, his rise to power had been surprisingly swift. He'd begun to use Tom whenever he needed to read an enemy or supposed ally. It didn't hurt that Neville could always be counted on to tell him the outcomes of any choices Connor was considering. When Connor had founded the Bennett Republic, it was largely due to his prisoner's magical ability to be both a human lie detector and crystal ball.

These days Neville is less a prisoner and more an honored guest of his new President. He almost completely manages to keep the crazy at bay – the talking to dead people crazy anyway. Neville always was a borderline psychotic and a full blown narcissist. Those traits remain.

When he is summoned by Connor on this day, he comes immediately as is the expectation. Dressed in a sharp Bennett uniform, he saunters into Connor's office with a smirk on his face and pep in his step.

"You rang, your Highness?" Neville asks as he settles into the chair opposite Connor.

Connor frowns at Tom, "I need you to read someone Tom. The situation is….delicate."

"Sounds fun." Neville sits up straighter, his curiosity piqued. "Who is this delicate flower that you need me to read?"

"Charlotte Matheson."

"Well, well, well." Neville grins, "You finally found her? This is the real Charlotte, right? Not one of those whores you put in a wig for one of your games?" Connor nods with a scowl. "Well, good for you, Sir. Good for you."

"Can you read her or not?"

"Of course I can Mr. President. As you know, the Matheson girl and I have a history. It would be an honor to …pay her a visit."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Aaron, Priscilla and Grace have set up shop in an old conference room at the Sheriff's office. This had been Miles's idea. He wanted them close so that he could always be in the loop, and so that he didn't have to leave Kelly for long.

Aaron has been pacing back and forth. Grace is leaning against the back wall and Priscilla is perched on an old desk. Miles is sitting in a corner listening to the conversation, but saying little. Half of what he hears makes no sense to him anyway. They are all tired and discouraged after considering - and then throwing out - various scenarios and possible plans for hours.

The Nano had been bad enough when it sucked up all the energy and turned out the lights. The problems had grown truly terrifying when it had begun to possess humans. Grace wants nothing to do with even attempting to turn the lights back on. Her fear remains that the air will catch fire. "I'd rather live in darkness than die on fire." She said simply.

The others agree. Aaron still gets chills just thinking about the tower. He's wondered so many times how different everything would be if he'd pretended not to know how to turn it all back on. He has to shake those thoughts away. It's time to focus. "So, what we really need is a way to leave the Nano to suck up the power in the world, but find a way to remove their ability to control humans…"

"In a nutshell, yes." Grace answers. "But how do we even attempt to do that? Every one of us is filled with the Nano. How can we remove it from the human mind, when it's solidly a part of it?" She is obviously frustrated. "We're just lucky that they are spread so thinly right now, they don't seem to care about any of us they haven't possessed."

Aaron nods, "Yeah, they probably wouldn't like these strategy sessions we've been having at all, unless… they know something is wrong and they're hoping we can fix it."

Priscilla has been quiet for a long time, lost in thought. She looks up, "Well, maybe we're making this more difficult than it has to be." She suggests. "What it if it's actually very simple? Maybe we can just convince the Nano that it doesn't WANT to be in humans anymore? What if instead of trying to remove it by force, we make it want to leave on its own?"

Grace frowns, "I don't see how that would work…"

Aaron stops and turns to face Priscilla, "No, it might work. Maybe." He's smiling a little as his mental gears begin to hum. He feels the first blush of excitement that always comes just before a breakthrough, "If we could tweak the code to make it think the human genome is a virus, the Nano would try to avoid it, and the only way to avoid the human genome would be to get the hell out of humans worldwide…"

"Or try really, really hard to kill us all…you know, since we'd then be seen by the Nano as a threat." Grace says, only half kidding.

Aaron shrugs, "Obviously we might have to work through some kinks."

Miles chuckles, "A kink is asking to be tied to a bed so that scantily clad girls can whip you with riding crops until you say 'Walnut!'. The Nano deciding we are enemy number one seems to be a much bigger problem than a kink."

Aaron flops down into a chair and lays his head down on his hands, "No, the bigger problem is the most obvious one. I need a computer and I need power if I even want to peek at the code, much less modify it. Neither of those is super easy to find these days.

"I thought I told you." Grace says with a frown.

"Told me what?"

"I have three laptops that I took from that office supply store after Edison died."

"Okay, but what about power? I would kill for one of those pendants right about now." Aaron sounds truly depressed.

"How about two of them?" Grace asks with a grin. "What would you do for two?"

"You mean you have computers AND you have pendants?" Aaron is now almost giddy as he looks at Grace.

She nods. "Of course I do. I was a girl scout. The scout motto was 'Be Prepared'."

"Well, sign me up for some Thin Mints, Grace, and bring me those laptops and pendants!" Aaron's grin is contagious and soon everyone is feeling a renewed sense of hope. "I have some code to rewrite."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bass and Rachel decide they'll just ride into Indianapolis and get a feel for the place before they finalize their plan, not that they have much of one so far. Rachel has managed to make it almost twenty-four hours without one of her spells, and Bass is hopeful that this means she's getting better. They need to be alert and ready for whatever comes next.

The outskirts of Indianapolis are a sad and dark place. They ride past collapsed store fronts and tumble-down apartment buildings. People in rags loiter on street corners or wander aimlessly up and down the roadside. As the travelers get closer to the Bennett headquarters, things improve. The buildings are somewhat cared for and the people appear to be relatively clean and healthy. Bass tenses as they are approached by a group of maybe twenty soldiers, all on horseback, all wearing the Bennett uniforms. He almost looks away, but decides that would be more suspicious than if he makes eye contact. The first few that pass ignore Bass and Rachel completely. It is a burly man on a brown horse in the third row that does a double-take before calling out something Bass can't quite make out.

"Shit." Bass mutters, casually moving a hand to the hilt of his sword. Something is happening.

He falters though, when he sees the reaction of the remaining soldiers. They are all staring at him now, and for a moment it feels as if time has stopped. Then the soldiers begin to salute him and Bass is truly confused.

So is Rachel, "Why are they doing that?" she asks in a whisper.

"I have no idea." Bass says.

The front rider who had passed them by has now noticed the commotion and heads his horse back to see what the fuss is all about. He glances at Bass and Rachel dismissively, until a soldier – it's the burly one who first recognized Bass again – leans close and says something into his superior's ear. Assuming the rankings are similar to what was used in the US Government and Monroe Militia, this man is a First Lieutenant. After stifling his initial surprise, the soldier gives Bass a crisp salute, "General Monroe, welcome to Indianapolis."

"You know me?" Bass asks, too shocked to even pretend they have the wrong guy.

The two soldiers share a quick look, "Well, of course we do Sir. Your portrait is on our paper currency. Your face is painted on the courtyard wall right next to President Bennett's. You look…" he pauses, eyeing Bass, "a little older, but it's still you."

Rachel chuckles in spite of the oddness of the situation. "We've fallen head first into the Bass Monroe fan club."

He gives Rachel a look that says she needs to shut up, and then he turns to the men before him. "What exactly is my role in the Bennett Republic?

The men share a look again; this look seems to be laced with confusion and concern. "You don't know?" the First Lieutenant asks, amazed.

"I wouldn't be asking if I knew." Bass's voice takes on a tone he had thought he'd left long behind. Evidently speaking to lower ranking soldiers was a lot like riding a bike – a skill one doesn't lose.

"You are second in command, Sir. President Bennett is the only one in this Republic who has more authority than you have. We are your soldiers, Sir. The only orders we can't take from you are those which would put our President in danger."

Bass watches them for a moment, sizing them up and deciding how much of this story he should believe, if any.

Rachel clears her throat and he looks at her, annoyed.

"I think he did it." She says quietly.

"Did what?" Bass asks.

"You promised your son that the two of you would rule a Republic again. He's set it up so that you can do exactly that."

Bass pales. She might just be right. He turns back to the men, and his expression is now all business. "Take me to him."

"Yes, Sir. We'll lead you through and you can get settled. Your rooms are kept ready at all times. You'll want to clean up before you meet the President."

Bass nods, "Yes, that's a good idea. My travelling companion will need her own room as well, and probably a doctor. She's been better today, but she's sick."

"Yes, Sir." The man starts to turn, and Bass calls him back.

"What is your name Lieutenant?"

"First Lieutenant Logan Michaels, Sir."

"Michaels, I need some information. It is more important to me than my rank, my rooms or anything else about this place. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Do you know if there are currently any prisoners? Specifically, a woman from Texas. The health and safety of this woman is of utmost importance to me."

Michaels frowns, "President Bennett doesn't usually keep prisoners Sir."

"What does he do with the enemy when he captures them?"

"The firing squad is his favorite method of disposing of prisoners. A couple were executed just yesterday."

Bass feels his heart fall and he hears Rachel's gasp of distress.

"But," Michaels says quickly, "I'm pretty sure they were both men."

Bass nods. "Thank you Michaels. Take us to Connor… Take us to President Bennett."

"Yes, Sir."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Charlie has been resting. Her cough has mostly subsided, but she still feels weak. When the door to her room opens, Charlie assumes it is Magda who had promised to bring her some honey tea.

She glances toward the door and recoils at the sight of Tom Neville coming her way. "What are you doing here?" she asks in a shaky voice.

"Well, I came to visit you of course. I came as soon as I heard you were here." He smiles, but his eyes are cold. "You are looking well." He's at her bedside now, and reaches out a cold finger to run it along her cheek. "You always were a looker." When Charlie scoots back from his touch, he laughs. "Don't worry Princess. I am immune to your charms, I don't want anything you have to offer."

Charlie shudders at his touch. Neville's smile morphs into a grin. If Charlie wasn't already completely unsettled by his visit, she would be now. The grin is evil.

Tom laughs, "I can NOT believe I didn't see this coming. I should have known."

"Known what?"

He ignores her question. "You always were popular with the fellas. It was like you had diamonds between your thighs. I never understood it myself, but I can't deny you cast a spell on my boy and on Connor too. They were downright smitten."

"I don't understand." Charlie says nervously.

"Well, I should have known you'd never settle for one of the boy wonders when you could shoot straight for the top of the heap. Poor Jason and Connor never stood a chance, did they…not if the great Sebastian Monroe himself was the one you had your eye on."

Charlie feels a shiver run down her spine, "What do you mean?"

"Oh, I think you know Princess. You and the General are in love. I suppose he finally gave up on having Miles, and thought you were the next best thing?"

"Shut your mouth." She says furiously.

"Oh look at you, all fired up to defend your man." Neville chuckles. "You know, President Bennett is going to be beside himself. He just will not know how to handle this news. Connor wants you for himself. He's been obsessed ever since we first left Texas, but his fixation on you pales in comparison to how he feels about his Daddy Dearest. Nobody has Daddy issues as big as Connor Bennett's." Neville rubs his hands together excitedly, "I can hardly wait to see this play out."

"You need to leave." Charlie says, trying to control the fear she feels building within.

"Oh I'm leaving. It was just lovely to see you again." He turns to go and Charlie is relieved that his visit is over. She hates that he's figured out about her and Bass, but at least he doesn't know her other secret.

Neville turns, "Oh don't worry. I won't tell Bennett that part just yet."

"What are you talking about?" she asks, eyes wide.

"The news that you are carrying the devil's spawn in your belly, of course." He laughs and the sound of it chills her to the bone. "Can you even imagine? That baby boy will have quite the pedigree. Son of the Scourge of Scranton, nephew of the Butcher of Baltimore and baby brother to Bennett the Beast. Poor kid doesn't stand a chance. He'll be killing before he's old enough to shave.

"Why do you think the baby is a boy?" she asks in a whisper.

He shrugs. "I know things Charlotte. Lots and lots of things." He leaves her room then, closing the door ever so softly behind him.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Aaron has been typing code for hours and feels that he is slowly making progress. Priscilla has fallen asleep in a corner of the conference room. Grace is reading an ancient copy of People magazine "Is Angelina Pregnant Again?" screams the headline. Miles is gone for the moment, having taken Kelly her dinner. Dr. Gene Porter is here now too. He wants to talk to Miles, but hasn't had a chance yet – so he's waiting.

"Okay guys, I think I have it." Aaron says. He sounds and looks exhausted.

Grace tosses down her magazine and comes closer. Priscilla rouses and also walks to Aaron's side.

The women both watch over Aaron's shoulders as he points to different parts of the new code, and explains what each piece will do. Gene watches from across the room without speaking.

"So, if we can get this to upload, the Nano will evacuate humans everywhere because it will see the human genome as a threat?" Grace asks, to clarify.

"Yes, that's exactly it." He sounds worried.

"What is it?" Priscilla asks. "Is there a problem?"

"Well…." Aaron shrugs, "This may seem insignificant from a big picture perspective, but there is a decent chance that I might die if we go through with the upload." He frowns, "but hey – I don't want to make this all about me."

"What do you mean you might die?" Gene asks. Priscilla glances at the doctor in surprise. She had been asleep when he came in and this is the first he's said.

"Well, as you know Doc, I died… rather violently, and the Nano brought me back."

Gene nods, remembering. "Yeah. You were gone for a few hours. It was crazy."

"Right, so the Nano healed me and brought me back. I have no way of knowing if they're still in there holding me together. It's possible that when they evacuate my body, they will, you know…just let me die again."

Priscilla and Grace don't know about the episode Aaron and Gene are talking about, so Aaron fills them in on the clan attack, his death and his resurrection.

"We're not doing it then." Priscilla says definitively. "I am not going to watch you die."

"Could you build a bridge or something?" Gene asks, lost in thought.

"A bridge? What are you talking about?" Grace asks.

"Well, is there some way you could make some version of the Nano that could stay in humans when their presence is necessary for continued health? Maybe it could be a benign version of the Nano that would not involve mind control…" He sees the blank stares, and shakes his head, "Sorry I have no idea what I'm talking about."

"Like that pill thing in Rachel's leg." Miles says as he comes back into the room, clearly having heard some of the conversation. "That thing healed her but didn't control her brain, right?"

Aaron and Grace exchange a thoughtful glance. Aaron slowly begins to nod, "That actually might work. We'd have to reprogram the capsule too, but it could be done…" he sits down with a sigh, "except Rachel has the only one I know of, and she's not here."

"You can have mine." Grace says with a shrug. "Give me a knife."

"You're like Inspector Gadget." Aaron says, in awe. "You have laptops and pendants and now an extra capsule to spare."

"Why do you have a capsule, anyway?" Priscilla asks. "Is it keeping you alive?"

"No, it was just a precaution. I had a spare and I knew I'd be out on the road alone for a while. I knew that I wouldn't always have help if I needed it, so I inserted it as an insurance policy, I guess. Hey, like I said… I'm always prepared."

Miles hands a knife over to Grace, but Gene stops him. "Let me get my bag. I have antiseptic and sutures. No reason we should take that thing out only to give her a nasty infection."

Gene returns a few minutes later with his medical bag. The mood is markedly lighter. The group is feeling some hope. "I have a question." Gene says. He's not smiling.

"What is it Doc?" Aaron asks.

"You think the Nano is maybe keeping you alive, right?" Aaron nods, and Gene continues, "Okay, well what about Rachel? Could that capsule be what's keeping her alive?"

"Well, the break in her leg was bad, but I don't think it would kill her." Aaron answers, trying to sooth the doctor's nerves.

"I'm not talking about her leg." Gene looks at Miles, "You didn't tell them?"

"Tell us what?" asks Priscilla.

"Rachel is sick. Something is wrong with her brain. My guess is a tumor, but I don't know. Could that capsule be keeping her alive?"

Grace stands slowly, staring at Gene. "Sir, we have no idea, but I have to ask you something. Did you notice anything strange lately? Was she doing anything out of character?"

"Well, she's been losing time and getting confused."

"Was that it? Did she ever do anything that seemed…well, supernatural?"

Gene feels a chill creeping up his spine, "Well, not exactly. In fact, it's probably nothing."

"Everything should be on the table here, Doctor. We need to know what we're up against."

"Well, I'm not sure. Maybe I said something out loud and just didn't remember it…" Gene trails off.

"What are you getting at? What did she do?"

"Well, again I could be wrong, but I swear she read my mind twice on the day she left town."

The others all exchange glances.

Aaron points at Gene, "Get that capsule out of Grace." Then he points at Grace, "Since you are always prepared, any chance you have access to supplies? We're going to need to make several of those modified capsules."

Gene nods, "I really think you need to hurry Aaron. I'm not sure Rachel has much time left without a miracle."

"Well," Aaron says with what he hopes is a reassuring smile, "I'll see what I can do."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx'

Charlie has felt unsettled ever since Neville's visit. She jumps when the door opens, but is relieved to see Magda enter. The older lady has been kind and Charlie feels hers is the only friendly face in this awful place.

"How are you feeling, Dear?" Magda asks, bringing her a steaming cup of honey tea on a little platter.

Charlie takes the tea and sips from it, "Well, I've been better. Someone who hates me paid me a visit today and now I feel less safe than ever. I still don't feel great and I miss Bass so much." Charlie's voice is quiet and her gaze is unfocused. Clearly her mind is elsewhere.

"Bass?" Magda chuckles. "As in President Bennett's father Bass Monroe? Is he the father of your baby?"

Charlie nods sadly. "I wasn't telling anyone, but now that Neville knows I'm sure he's going to tell Connor anyway."

Magda's eyes narrow, "Tom Neville? Is he the one who visited you? That man is as slimy as a snake dipped in motor oil."

"You won't get any argument from me. So, you know Neville AND Bass?" Charlie looks at Magda curiously.

Magda smiles, "Of course I knew them. I knew all of them. I was in charge of Mr. Bass's rooms in Philadelphia for several years. I did everything I could to make him feel at home." She doesn't say anything for a moment, lost in thought. "He was…troubled, especially toward the end of the Republic. I worried about him. After Mr. Miles left, he was just a mess. It was a really rough time."

Charlie is intrigued. "You know I'm a Matheson too? Miles is my uncle?"

Magda tilts her head to one side to study Charlie's face. "Well, of course you are. How did I miss that? Is he still…"

"Alive?" Charlie asks with a misty smile, "Oh yeah, he's alive and cranky as ever."

Magda's smile widens, "That is good news for sure. You know they were so much fun to work for in the beginning. Mr. Bass was usually laughing and Mr. Miles was always pretending to be grouchy – even though he rarely was. Jeremy was usually there too, being his witty self, teasing the other two non-stop. Neville was never part of that group, but he was always lurking somewhere nearby… "

"I didn't meet them then, not even my uncle. I didn't meet them until things were already going sideways and they were at odds. I blamed Bass for my Dad and brother dying for a long time. The truth is that Neville killed my Dad. I try not to dwell on it too much now. I had to put it behind me, you know?"

"I do know. I'm not naive. I know they weren't boy scouts. I heard the stories. I heard how Miles slashed up a whole regiment of rebels in Baltimore. I heard how Bass burnt down a building full of people in Scranton, and then tried to do the same in his home town later. I know Jeremy executed a couple dozen rebels who were trying to smuggle guns across the border. I know they weren't always the nice guys I saw around Independence Hall, but I loved them as if they were my own, flaws and all."

"Flaws and all." Charlie repeats with a sad little smile. She'd give anything to have Bass with her right now, flaws and all.

"Miles and Bass are getting along better now, you know. I think I met Jeremy once a long time ago. I haven't seen him in a long time though."

"Well, you wouldn't." For the first time, Magda's face goes dark. "Mr. Bass had him killed in one of his paranoid moments after Mr. Miles left. Stupid decision. After that, he had nobody at all. He was completely alone. That was the end really."

Charlie tries to ignore the worry that fills her at the mention of what Bass is capable of when he's out of control, "You were in Philadelphia right up till the end? So how did you…"

"How did I survive the blast? It was a fluke really. I had some vacation time coming, and when Mr. Bass left on an unplanned trip, I figured it was a good time to take a few days off. A friend of mine was headed to Chicago to see family. I had a sister there, and asked if I could tag along. We were well into Ohio when the bombs fell. Got to Chicago only to find out that my sister had died the year before. So then I came down here to visit my other sister in Indianapolis. I didn't have a home to go to, so I stayed. When President Bennett first set up his Republic, there were job openings. I applied. He's got a bit of an obsession with Mr. Bass, as you know. As soon as he saw I'd worked for his father, he hired me on the spot."

"I'm glad that Bass had you back then Magda, and I'm glad I have you now."

"Is he doing any better Charlotte? Mr. Bass? Is he any better? Has he found a way to fight off the darkness?"

"Yeah, I think he is better. It took a long time, but yeah. We're both excited about the baby, and our future…" Charlie trails off as reality rears its ugly head. "I just wish I knew where he is and if he's okay."

"The man I knew wouldn't let anything get in the way of something he wants. I have a feeling he'll find you."

"I hope you are right Magda. More than anything, I hope you're right."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tom Neville enters Connor Bennett's office with a flourish, as is his trademark. "Mr. President, I come bearing news."

Connor looks up from a stack of military reports and grain inventory sheets. He's not in a good mood, and seeing Neville's cheeky grin grates on his nerves. "What did you find?"

"Well, you were right, Sir. She is definitely involved with someone."

"Who?" Connor spits out. "Anyone I know?"

Neville puts his fingers over his mouth in an effort to stifle a chuckle, "Yes, you could say that."

Connor stands and slams his fists into the surface of his desk. "WHO?"

"Charlotte Matheson's heart belongs to the President of this Republic, Sir."

"What? But I'm the President…"

"Well, you're not the only one, right?"

Connor slumps down into his chair, his mouth hanging open slightly. He is shocked, "You mean, Charlie and my Dad?"

Neville nods, his eyes glinting. "Yes, Sir. It appears that they are madly in love. I think it's quite serious to be honest. Charlie is very worried about him, and if I know Monroe – and I do know Monroe – he'll be just as worried about her. He's probably on his way here now."

Connor stands and walks to the window that overlooks his courtyard. A very important decision needs to be made, but Connor is torn. On the one hand, he wants Charlie for himself, but on the other – he knows his Dad would never share.

"I'll make sure we're ready for his arrival." Connor says finally.

"And the Matheson girl?" Tom asks with a sneer.

"You mean my father's girlfriend? She will be nursed back to health of course and will be here to welcome him with open arms when he arrives. As you know, I would never do anything to jeopardize my father's happiness."

"You are willing to set aside your own desire for this girl, so that you have a chance to rule alongside your Dad?"

"Of course. " Connor grins. "Charlies are a dime a dozen Tom, but there is only one Sebastian Monroe."

Neville nods, disappointed. He had hoped that Connor would want to fight for the girl. Neville had been sure that would be a battle worth watching.

As he leaves his President's office, he mentally pats himself on the back for not telling Connor about the baby. After all, Neville has plans too & Connor's new attitude might get in his way.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.

The soldiers usher Bass and Rachel into the old state capitol building that now houses the Bennett Republic headquarters. It is opulent and reminds Bass of Independence Hall back in Philadelphia. He asks Michaels to take Rachel to the infirmary. Michaels leads her away immediately.

Bass is then led to a wing on the fourth floor and is escorted to 'his rooms'. His first thought upon seeing his new quarters is one of extreme déjà vu. The layout is different, and the furniture isn't exactly the same, but clearly Connor has tried to recreate Bass's quarters from years ago. "How the hell?" Bass mutters to himself, looking around.

"Someone will be along shortly with hot water for a bath." One of the soldiers says to him.

"Why don't you just take me to Connor now?" Bass asks instead. He's getting tired of all the waiting.

"President Bennett is a stickler for decorum, Sir. You'll want to clean up and dress." The man nods to a closed door along one wall, before leaving quietly.

Bass walks to the door and opens it. It's a closet, but not just any closet. This closet is filled with Bennett uniforms in his size. There are ten of them. There is also an overcoat, a wool pea coat and a rain coat. There are three pairs of boots. In a small dresser he finds underwear and socks. On top of the dresser is a shallow tray. Lying in the tray are cufflinks which sport the Bennett insignia as well as a lapel pin that bears the solitary M Bass had left behind so long ago. He leaves everything where it is and wanders back into the bedroom. On a cabinet is a decanter. He pulls off the lid and holds the bottle under his nose. It's his favorite whiskey. On the bedside table is a short stack of books. He is no longer surprised when he notes they are also some of his favorites. Hanging above a writing desk is a portrait of Emma. His heart pangs at the sight of her, and he feels almost suffocated with regret. More than anything he just wants to see Charlie. His bad leg is aching, and Bass rubs at it. The promised bath sounds like heaven.

Bass's thoughts are interrupted by a soft knock on the door. An elderly woman comes in. She is wearing a maid' uniform and is followed by a young red-headed girl and two young men. All are carrying buckets of steaming water for his bath. Something about the older woman is familiar. She dumps her bucket into his tub and turns. Bass's heart lurches at the familiar face. "Magda?"

"Mr. Bass." She says with a grin. "I heard you were coming. Your rooms have been ready for a long time. I'm glad to see you'll get to use them."

"I thought you were dead." He runs a hand through his hair. Magda had always been a dear, almost a second mother to the Bass and Miles. He is happy to see her, though the meeting is unsettling since he'd been sure she'd perished in Philly.

"Nope. Not dead yet." She says with a smile. "Can I get you anything at all?"

"Yes." Bass takes a few steps and he leans down to speak quietly in her ear. "I'm looking for someone who might be a prisoner here. Her name is – "

"Charlotte Matheson?" Magda asks with a chuckle. "She's here. She has pneumonia, but is doing better." She can see the relief on his face, but it is quickly replaced by worry. "He hasn't touched her Mr. Bass. She's fine. So is the baby."

Tears of relief and thankfulness fill his eyes. "Thank you Magda. Could you take me to her?"

She shakes her head, "No, I don't think so Dear."

He looks confused, "But why?"

"I think that when you go see the love of your life, you should smell less like… well, whatever it is you smell like." Magda wrinkles her nose. "She's clean and comfortable. She's recovering nicely. I think waiting just long enough to get cleaned up might be worth the sacrifice, don't you?"

He laughs, feeling excited for the first time since Charlie was taken, "Yes, Magda. You're right." He turns toward the bath, but she stops him.

"Do you want a shave?"

He grins at her, "No, Charlie likes the beard. Better leave it as is."

Magda nods with a smile and lets herself out.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bass is clean and clothed in one of the provided uniforms. He loves the feel of new fabric against his skin and the way his brand new boots sound as they walk down the marble corridor. Michaels falls into step beside him, pushing an exhausted Rachel in an old wheel chair. She too has cleaned up, but she still looks tired and weak.

"Hey Rachel," Bass says leaning down, "Charlie is here and she's safe."

"Thank God." Rachel says, sagging in relief. She glances up at Monroe and has to do a double take. His uniform is a different color and he's kept the beard, but otherwise it's like looking back in time. "Shit, this is disturbing." She mutters. "I wasn't ready to see you like this again…General."

He scowls at her, "Yeah, me either, but this is what they gave me. I didn't have a lot of choices."

"Well, it's creepy how much you look like all the portraits now."

"What portraits?"

"Are you kidding?" she asks. "They are everywhere. Paintings of you and Connor. It's a disturbing Kim Jong Ill level of propaganda. No wonder those soldiers recognized you."

"Well, I haven't seen any paintings yet." Just then they are ushered into Connor's office. Connor isn't here, but Bass stops cold. Hanging above the ornate desk are two life size portraits. One is of Connor and one is of Bass from his President Monroe days. "Damn." Bass mutters.

"Told you so." Rachel says under her breath as Connor enters the office and eyes his visitors carefully.

He walks directly to his father, pulling Bass into a perfunctory embrace. "Dad," he says simply, "It's good to see you."

Bass returns his son's embrace, but can't shake the memory of their last meeting… when Connor had been trying to kill him.


	6. Chapter 6

"You're a machine. You're parts and programming. And you're dying, and you're losing control every second, you reject Skynet piece of crap." –Aaron Pittman

**Chapter 6 **

Miles pays President Blanchard a visit. Blanchard is cranky and worried. Georgia is getting ready for battle and talk of an oncoming war is everywhere.

"We have to give them back their damn President, Miles."

"We're so close. They're working on a cure now."

"A cure? A cure for Foster floating in the air like a damn ghost?"

"Well, it's a little more technical than that, but yeah."

Blanchard runs a hand nervously through his thinning white hair, "One week Miles. You get one more week."

Miles leaves the office and finds Gene waiting outside. "I am really worried about Rachel."

"So am I Gene, and Charlie too. Hell, I'm worried about Bass. None of them should be in Connor's territory right now." Miles is beyond frustrated.

"Let's go then." Gene says. "Let's go right now."

"Go where?"

Gene squares his shoulders, "If my little girl is going to die, I want to see her one last time."

"Why do you think she's going to die?" Miles feels a chill.

Gene shrugs. "I don't know how to explain it, but I can't shake this bad feeling I have whenever I think of her. I'm going to Indianapolis to see Rachel and Charlie. If you want to come along, that would be great."

Miles frowns, "Well, of course I'm not going to let you go by yourself. Just a second. I gotta go back in there and tell Blanchard there's a change in plans."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Rachel watches as Bass eases out of his son's embrace. "Connor." Bass is hesitant. "Can you tell us what this is all about?" he motions to the paintings and then the office at large. "Why is my picture everywhere?"

His son perches on the edge of his desk, "Remember when you came to find me in Mexico? You said we should get the Republic back and we could lead it together."

"Yeah, I remember, but Connor…"

"I know. I know. We didn't part on the best of terms, but I want to fix that. This…" Connor motions to the office, "is part of my effort to do that. I built this Republic with you in mind every step of the way."

"What does that mean?" Rachel asks.

"It means that since the very inception of the Bennett Republic, General Sebastian Monroe has always been second in command." Connor smiles then – his eyes look a little wild - and Bass and Rachel both see he's crazy. They'd already figured as much, but in this moment nothing could be clearer. President Connor Bennett has lost his mind.

"I thought I made it clear before you left Willoughby. I don't want another Republic anymore. That was all a big mistake. We could have worked in Texas…"

"So you could stay close to Miles?" Hate drips from every word.

"Not just Miles."

Connor's mouth tightens. "Charlie, right? Was it always about her?"

Bass shakes her head, "No, not always, but it's all about her now, and I want to see her. Take me to her Connor. I know she's here."

"Patience, Dad. You'll see her in due time." Connor walks over to a large table and motions for Bass to follow. Rachel wheels over as well. The table is covered in a huge map of what was once the United States. There are a lot of markings along the Mississippi and south near the Texas/Georgia/Bennett Triangle.

"What's all this?" Bass asks. He walks to the table where Connor is now standing, but winces as pain shoots through his bad leg.

"Strategy." Connor says with a frown. "The Bennett Republic needs more farmland. We are running out of food. The Triangle is too unstable right now. He points at the area near where Charlie had first been taken. "So we're going to take Iowa." He then points at the curve in the Mississippi where most of the red marks are on the map.

"What are all the markings?" Rachel asks.

"Those are approximate locations of battles we've already fought in the area. The numbers represent our casualties up to this point."

Bass whistles, "That's a lot of casualties, but what does it have to do with us?"

"I need you to help me take Iowa." Connor says this simply as if he's asking for a new bike.

"How the hell would I do that? I've been out of the mix for a while now Connor. Not even sure where I'd start…" Bass frowns, "Why would I do that in the first place?"

"We need food. Iowa has corn fields that go on forever. Currently the clans protecting those fields are proving to be a more formidable foe than we'd anticipated, but I know that you will be able to come up with a plan that will lead us to victory. You were a legend when it came to battle plans."

Bass looks at Connor carefully, "You know it was never just me, right? I had Miles. I had Jeremy… lots of advisors… and I'm not what you'd call 'in my prime' anymore Connor."

Connor shrugs, "Yeah, I've heard the stories and I know you got banged up pretty bad in the Patriot War. I still have faith in you."

Bass can see this is going nowhere. "Fine. Whatever. I just want to see Charlie. We can discuss all this strategy stuff later."

"I want to discuss it now." Connor says firmly.

Bass is having trouble focusing. "Listen, I'll… I'll try to come up with a plan for your troops. Right now I can't concentrate on that stuff, alright? I want to see Charlie. Take me to her if you even want me to consider helping you with this other thing."

Connor isn't happy, but sees the steely glint in his father's eyes, and knows he's not going to win this one. "Fine. Come with me."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Miles and Gene stop by the conference room on their way out. "Deputy Vincent is in the office. If you need anything ask him. He knows that you are here, and that what you are doing is important. I don't think he'll bother you."

"Okay." Aaron says. "What's your plan exactly?"

"Our plan is to make a plan as we go along. Gene is worried about Rachel. I'm worried about Bass. We're both worried about Charlie."

"We'll keep working on this." Aaron motions to the tables around them. Grace had brought over boxes of components and wires and other electronic gadgets and the three of them have been working non-stop to recreate the capsule Gene had removed from Grace's thigh.

"Well, as soon as you have one that works…"

"I know. I know. Put it in Kelly and cross our fingers."

"How long will it take to work?"

"If we do it right, not long."

"Well, when you know it works, tell Vincent to get Blanchard. He'll take care of releasing her to Georgia."

"Got it. And then we hightail it to Indianapolis with a spare capsule for Rachel."

"Yeah." Miles is thoughtful for a minute, "You know what… maybe make a few extras. I don't know what we'll be facing or what shape everyone might be in."

"No problem Miles. We'll bring extras." Aaron nods solemnly. They both know that this is all a crapshoot. They may never finish the capsule or they might not do it in time.

Miles raises a hand in a halfhearted salute. "Good luck Pittman. We'll see you in Indiana."

"See you there."

Miles and Gene leave Aaron, Priscilla, and Grace behind and head out of town. They are packed and on the road to Indianapolis minutes after saying goodbye to their friends. They have agreed to ride hard and fast and get there as soon as they can. Assuming all goes well, they'll be at Connor's headquarters in four days.

"You're doing pretty good for an old man." Miles teases Gene after they've gone ten miles.

"Thanks," Gene says with a laugh. "You're not doing so badly yourself."

They ride on in silence, focused only on the journey ahead, and their loved ones who may be in danger.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Charlie is napping when the door to her suite bangs open, startling her into an upright position. Connor is here. She sinks back into her blankets when she sees that he's followed by another soldier. She doesn't recognize him at first, not until he pushes past Connor and limps to her bedside.

"Bass?" She's afraid this is a dream, but if it were a dream, she wouldn't be imagining him in uniform. She has to admit to herself that he looks really good though.

"Charlie." He's sitting at her side and touching her face and her hair. He runs his fingers up her arms and rests them lightly on her cheeks. "Are you okay?"

She doesn't know she's crying until he begins to wipe away her tears, "I am now." She says quietly.

He leans in to kiss her and she stiffens, whispering harshly, "Connor is here. He's watching."

Bass nods, understanding. A memory of his earlier conversation with his son comes back to him and he calls out, "Clear the room." Just as he'd expected, Connor and the soldiers leave, pushing a very irritated Rachel with them.

"What just happened?" Charlie asks as he leans in to kiss her properly. Moments later they are staring into each other's eyes, speaking without words as they have grown to do. She repeats her earlier question, "What just happened? Why did they leave? And was that my Mom?"

"Connor made me second in command when he set all this up. That means I can tell the soldiers what to do, and they'll do it." He smirks a little before continuing, "and yes your Mom is here too…but SHE can see you later." He chuckles before leaning in for another kiss.

"Uh-oh." She laughs. "You're back in power for five minutes and you're letting it go to your head already."

"Nope. The only thing going to my head is having you close and knowing you are okay. You are okay aren't you? You look so pale." Concern is etched across his face.

"I'm still struggling. Pneumonia is not fun, but I think I'm feeling better." Charlie doesn't sound completely convinced, but Bass pretends not to notice. Bass is just so happy to be with her. He lowers a hand gently to her belly, feeling the curve there. "You're bigger now." He says, his voice reverent.

Charlie lays her hand gently over his, "Our baby is bigger, and Connor's doctor says he's okay."

"He?" Bass asks, his eyes wide, his voice breaking.

"Neville told me it's a boy. He seemed weirdly sure of himself about it." Charlie smiles nervously. Even talking about Neville makes her nervous.

"Tom Neville is here?" Bass asks, his voice hard. "And he knows about the baby?"

"Yeah, but he hasn't told Connor. I don't really know what's going on with him. It was like he could read my mind."

"There's a lot of that going around."

"What do you mean?" she asks.

"Your Mom is doing that too. Reading minds. She knows about us…knows about the baby."

Charlie's face pales. "She knows? Oh God. How did that go?"

"Well, not so well at first, but she sort of came around…eventually. It's going to be okay." Bass grips her fingers in his, looking into her eyes with an encouraging smile.

"I don't like the idea that they can read our thoughts at all." She says simply.

"Well, I've found that if you think about random stuff when your Mom is around, she can't really see much. Maybe the same goes for Neville."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I thought about box scores or math facts. State capitols. Whatever."

She nods thoughtfully, "Okay, good to know. Hey Bass?"

"Yeah?"

"Something is really wrong with Connor. He killed my friends and some things he said about when he was a kid… well, I think there was a lot more to him getting sent to Mexico than Emma being afraid of you. In fact, he implied she was afraid of him. I think he might be…"

"Bat shit crazy?" Bass sighs heavily, "Yeah, I'm starting to think that too."

They just hold each other for a while. Finally Charlie speaks again, "Is he ever going to let us go Bass?"

"I really don't know."

"Bass, I'm sorry." She says. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?" he asks, unsure.

"For leaving you when you begged me to stay…for being stubborn…" Charlie trails off quietly.

Bass places a kiss on her lips. "You wouldn't be you if you weren't stubborn, and it all worked out okay. Don't be sorry. We're together now."

They lie entwined, savoring the sweetness of their reunion. When Bass finally pulls himself away from Charlie, two hours have passed. Connor's assistant Dennis leads Bass back to the President's office. Rachel is there waiting.

Bass turns to Dennis. "Take Rachel to see Charlie. I have business to discuss with Connor."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Rachel is wheeled to Charlie's rooms, and this time she is able to get close enough to hug her daughter. Things have not been good between them for a long time. Rachel hopes they can get a fresh start. "You've been sick." She says to Charlie, stroking her hair. Worry is clear in Rachel's expression.

Charlie nods. "Pneumonia, but I'm feeling better. What happened to you? What's with the wheel chair?"

"I've been having some headaches and other problems. Don't worry about that. Are you okay?"

"Yeah I am." Charlie smiles shyly, "Bass told me that you know."

"About the baby?"

Charlie nods. "We didn't plan it exactly, but we love each other, Mom."

"Yeah, I already picked up on that from him. He's crazy about you." Rachel smiles, but it falters. She bites her lip worriedly.

"You're okay with all this?"

"God no." Rachel says with a firm shake of her head, "But I love you and I want you to be happy. If he makes you happy, I'll deal with the rest."

"He makes me very happy." Charlie says with a tired smile.

Rachel leans in to hug Charlie again, "Then that's enough for me."

Charlie can't help but chuckle, "Don't get me wrong, Mom. I'm really glad you are sort of on board with all this, but it feels pretty weird hearing you say it."

"Feels weird to say it too, but I mean it. I want you to be happy." Rachel shrugs with a smile.

Charlie grasps her Mom's fingers with her own. "Thanks Mom, for understanding… for everything. It means a lot."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bass stands before Connor's desk. "You have to let her go." He says, his voice cold. "She's still sick. I want to take her back home."

Connor shakes his head no. "Not going to give her up that easily Dad. Just go to your rooms and we can discuss this tomorrow."

"I'm not going to my rooms. You can give them to Rachel. I'm staying with Charlie."

Connor leans back in his chair and watches his Dad thoughtfully, "Wow, you really have it bad for her, don't you? She must have picked up some new skills since I had a crack at her."

Bass lunges across the desk and almost has Connor by the throat when Dennis enters with a pistol pointed right at Bass's head. Bass takes a deep breath and moves away from Connor. "Don't speak about her like that." He says gruffly.

"I think we need to discuss a deal." Connor says.

"What kind of deal?"

"I'll trade. You give me Iowa and I'll give you Charlie."

Bass watches his son for a minute. He wishes things were different. He wishes he'd been a bigger part of Connor's life. He wishes Connor wasn't crazy. Wishing won't change the truth though. The truth is that Connor isn't going to give Charlie her freedom unless Bass can deliver Iowa. "Fine, I'll get you Iowa, but I need one thing if you really want this done right."

Connor beams. "Anything. Whatever you want, it's yours."

"Get me Miles. I won't go to Iowa without him."

Connor feels a pulse of red hot hate flow through his body at the mention of Miles Matheson, but he can tell Bass means business. He's scowling, but Connor nods curtly. "Dennis. Send a messenger to Willoughby. Tell Miles Matheson he's needed in Indianapolis. Sign the message "General Bass Monroe".

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

That night Bass and Charlie are alone in what had been Charlie's room up to this point. Charlie still feels weak, but being in Bass's arms gives her strength she didn't know was possible. They are just holding each other, talking quietly - just happy to be together.

"You might get sick, spending so much time with me." She says against his cheek.

"I don't care." He responds quietly. "It wouldn't matter if you had the Bubonic plague. I won't leave you."

Charlie senses something in his voice. Dread curls through her gut. "What aren't you telling me Bass?"

"Connor wants me to go to Iowa and fight for his Republic. He needs the farmland and has it in his head that I can succeed where his men have failed."

"Can you do it?" Charlie doesn't want him to go, but she knows he can take care of himself.

"I told him I won't do it without Miles. I can't do it without Miles. They're sending for him now."

Charlie feels an overwhelming sense of relief. "I'm glad. You two are always better together than apart."

He nods, kissing her temple. "You're right. Together, we at least have a chance…I think."

Charlie tries to shake the dire mood that suddenly hangs heavily around them, "Bass, what's wrong with my Mom? Tell me the truth. Headaches don't put people in wheel chairs."

He sighs, "She says is might be a brain tumor. I think it's pretty bad."

"Oh God." Charlie chokes back a little cry of despair.

"I'm sorry." He says to her.

"You don't have to say that. I know you guys don't get along." Charlie is fighting back tears, "I just can't believe she's that sick. She's the strongest woman I know. I just can't wrap my head around it… I spent so much time being mad at her. Now that all seems so stupid."

"You know, the last conversation I ever had with my Dad was a fight. He was pissed that I'd signed up for another tour. He wanted me to get out and join him in the family business. We yelled at each other. It was awful." Bass frowns. "After he died, I kept beating myself up about it. I wish I'd had another chance to really work things out with him"

"God Bass, that must have been hard."

"It was. I got through it. Miles helped me. Reminded me of all the times my Dad and I got along and how much fun we had and that Dad knew I loved him. That helped." He kisses her temple softly. "Maybe you and your Mom can work through some stuff while we're here."

"Like how much she hates the man I love?" Charlie asks with a heavy frown.

"Maybe not. You know, on the way here, your Mom and I kind of made our peace Charlie. I'm not saying that we're best friends or anything, but we came to an understanding. She knows that I love you."

Charlie nods, "She told me as much."

"She loves you too, you know. We had some heart to heart conversations on the road. I know you've doubted that from time to time, but she does love you."

"Is she going to die?"

"We're all going to die Charlie…some of us sooner than others."

"Don't talk like that Bass." She takes a deep breath, "What happens next? Are you really going to Iowa?"

He leans back deeper into the pillows, pulling Charlie tight to his side, "As soon as Miles gets here, he and I will have to go. I don't think we have a choice."

"Can you win?"

"I have no idea Charlie. I have no idea."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Aaron Pittman is worried. He and Grace are sitting in Kelly's cell, watching her sleep. In his hand he holds the prototype for the new Nano capsule. Due to their supplies being limited to whatever was left at a long abandoned Radio Shack, this new version looks nothing like the earlier model. Aaron calls it the Jagged Little Pill. It is two inches long and is encased in a yellow plastic coating. At first glance, it looks like a chunk of #2 pencil. "What if it doesn't work?" he asks Grace quietly.

"But what if it does?"

Aaron shrugs, "Let's wake her up and see, I guess."

Priscilla comes in with Deputy Vincent in tow. "I think we might need him to help us hold her down." She says helpfully.

Aaron nods, "Yeah, that's not a bad idea." He leans down next to Kelly's side, "Kelly?" he asks, lightly shaking her shoulder. "Wake up."

Kelly wakes up and looks at her guests with a sleepy frown, "What are you doing?"

Aaron breathes a sigh of relief. Kelly seems lucid, which should make their task easier. Priscilla kneels next to Aaron, "We have come up with something that we hope is going to make you feel more like yourself."

Kelly's eyes go wide with uncertainty, but she nods.

"It's gonna hurt, Kelly. We have to implant it in your thigh."

"Okay…." Kelly says, her voice shaky.

"Doc Porter left some anesthetic though, so we'll start with that." Aaron says

Grace steps forward with a syringe, and Kelly closes her eyes, not wanting to see what comes next. Grace works quickly. She waits a couple minutes after giving Kelly the shot before using a sharpened and sterilized blade to slice a three inch opening in Kelly's upper thigh. She pushes Aaron's Jagged Little Pill inside the opening and quickly stitches up the area, before swabbing it with an iodine mixture they hope will help the healing process along.

"Now what?" Deputy Vincent asks. He knows very little of what is going on, but he's curious.

"Well, now we wait and see." Grace says.

Kelly begins to writhe in pain, "What have you done to me?" She screams at them, clawing at the damaged side of her face as it begins to pulse and twist.

"Shit." Deputy Vincent says, turning to leave the cell quickly.

Grace tries to console Kelly, "We are hoping that this heals the damage from the blast Kelly."

"It hurts!" she wails, now rocking back and forth on the concrete floor, moaning. "Oh God, it hurts…" She grasps her head with both hands.

Aaron steps forward too, but Kelly begins to thrash angrily, so he steps back. "Maybe we should give her some space." He suggests, worried.

Priscilla, Aaron and Grace are soon standing on the outside of the cell with Deputy Vincent, watching as the President of Georgia writhes in agony on the cold cell floor.

"Shit." Vincent says again, locking the cell door quietly.

"Yeah, shit." Aaron says, worry etched across the lines of his face.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bass wakes next to Charlie and in spite of where they are and why they are here, he smiles happily. Any day he can start in bed with Charlie has the potential to be a wonderful day indeed. He feels her stir and pulls her more deeply into his embrace. It is then that he notices just how hot her skin feels against his. "Charlie, you're burning up." He feels his earlier happiness morph into concern. She whimpers against him but doesn't open her eyes.

Bass carefully removes himself from Charlie and stiffly limps to the door, cursing his body for betraying him when all he wants to do is run for help. He reaches the door and opens it, leaning out. "Magda?"

Within moments the comforting face of the older housekeeper appears. "What is it Mr. Bass?" she asks, worried.

"Charlie's fever is high again. Could you please send for the doctor?"

"Of course." Magda turns immediately to get help as Bass hobbles back to bed.

"Charlie, Baby? Can you hear me?" he brushes hair behind her ear and runs cool fingers over her flushed cheeks. "Charlie?" his voice is louder now. He needs her to wake up.

Her eyes flutter open slowly, "Bass? I have pneumonia, not hearing loss."

Bass smiles. He's still worried, but her smartass comment soothes him somewhat. "Sorry. I just worry. I called for the Doctor. Your fever feels high again."

"Yeah, I do feel hot. Thought it was just because you were here with me."

"There will be plenty of time for that later, after you have recovered." He chuckles, moving to snuggle closer. The movement unexpectedly jostles his bad leg and he sucks in a deep breath.

Charlie is on alert at the sound of his gasp, watching him carefully. "Is it your leg? Did you hurt it again?"

He nods, "Fell off my damn horse on the way here. I landed on a jagged rock. Luckily Roland didn't wander far and eventually your Mom was able to help me out. She stitched me back up. It's sore, that's all."

The doctor appears and he gives Charlie a check-up. "I wish I knew why we can't shake this fever. I'm leaving some herbal tea with Magda and more of the medicine you've had before. I'm also going to have her start giving you pre-natal vitamins."

"I didn't know anyone still made vitamins." Bass says, surprised.

The doctor nods, "I make my own. Her body is really struggling to fight the pneumonia. I'm worried for her health and also for the baby's. Everything we can do to help them is a good thing."

He turns to leave and Charlie stops him. "Doc, can you look at Bass's leg too? He hurt it pretty bad on the way here."

Bass balks, "It's no big deal, really." And stands, but he stumbles when he feels a jolt of pain.

The doctor shakes his head, "Drop your pants General. Let's see that leg."

Bass sends Charlie a grouchy glare, but does as he was asked. Charlie is glad she said something as soon as she sees the angry red wound on top of the ruined thigh. "Is it infected?" she asks cautiously.

"Lie down, Sir. Let me get a better look."

Bass kicks his pants to the side and lies back down, wearing only his boxers.

"What happened to your leg?" the doctor asks, as he begins to prod at the scarred flesh of Bass's left thigh.

"I fell off a horse the other day and landed on a sharp rock."

"No, I mean before that."

"Oh. Well, I got shot a couple times during a battle against the Patriots. Not even sure how they managed to save the leg, much less me."

The doctor nods. "I've never seen damage like this. It's amazing that you can walk at all. You have developed an infection from the recent injury. I'm sure it hurts, but we caught it early enough that we can take care of it. Be thankful to Miss Charlie there. She may have just saved your life."

Bass turns to her with a sheepish smile. "I'm always thankful to Charlie for saving my life." His eyes tell her that he's not speaking about his leg, but his heart. They grasp hands as the doctor continues.

"I'll leave some meds with Magda for you too. Stay off of that leg for a couple days and take the medicine. You'll start seeing some improvement pretty quickly I think."

The doctor and Magda both leave the room. Magda promises to return with some breakfast and medicine very soon.

"Looks like we're stuck in bed, recovering together." Charlie says to Bass with a tired smile as the door closes.

He pulls her close. "Nowhere else I'd rather be."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Aaron, Priscilla, and Grace had all made their way back to the conference room where they'd been working on the prototype. Kelly had finally fallen asleep and they were going to give the new capsule some time to do its work.

Deputy Vincent appears at the door, breathless and pale. "You guys should probably come see this."

They follow in a rush. When they get to the cell, Aaron gasps and Priscilla presses her hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her scream. Grace says nothing, but her eyes widen in shock.

Kelly is standing in the center of the cell, staring at her visitors. "What have you done to me?" she asks, her voice shaking with rage.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Neville has been summoned to Connor's office. When he gets there, it is immediately clear that President Bennett is in a mood. "What can I do for you, Sir?" Tom asks.

"Tell me about Iowa. What is going to happen there?"

Neville shuts his eyes, concentrating. "It's not clear, Sir." He shakes his head. "Who will be going? I need to focus on a person."

"My father and Miles Matheson." Connor almost snarls when he says Miles's name. His hatred even more pronounced than when he'd first left Willoughby.

Neville's eyes popped open at the mention of the two Generals once again working together. He nods carefully and then closes his eyes again. Now that he has names to focus on, the images begin to take shape. "I see fire. A lot of fire. Screaming people dying in the flames. I see President Monroe injured. Matheson saves his life. There are many casualties, but I see victory for the Bennett Republic."

"What if Miles doesn't go along?" Connor asks carefully, feeling out the different scenarios.

Neville frowns, "Your father dies. Iowa not only wins, but wins in a big way. Bennett losses are staggering."

Connor slams his fist angrily into his desk. "Damnit! Why is Miles so important?"

Tom shakes his head. "It's not that Miles is so important, Sir. It's the two of them together. They think alike, they strategize in tandem, they can concoct abrupt battle plan changes with a look and a word. They are one soldier in two bodies. If you'd asked me what happens if Miles goes alone, the answer is similar. In that scenario, Miles dies and you still lose Iowa. If you want that land, you need them both to go and get it for you - together."

"Fine." Connor says petulantly. "You are dismissed."

"Sir?"

"Yes, Neville."

"One other thing… Miles is already on his way here."

"But I just sent a messenger yesterday."

"Well, Miles is worried about Charlie and Rachel and Bass. He's coming to help."

"Miles Fucking Matheson." Connor shakes his head, clearly agitated. "I suppose it's a good thing. If he's so important to success in Iowa, he might as well get here sooner rather than later."

"Do you need anything else from me, Sir?"

"No Tom. You can go."

Connor stares out his office window, brooding about the reality that Miles is essential for his plans to succeed. He's seen Tom's 'gift' work on many occasions and one thing is certain: Neville is never wrong.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Georgia's President Kelly Foster always was a beautiful woman. In her youth, she had turned heads and the heads never had stopped turning. She was always one of those women who commanded the attention of those around her. It wasn't just her beauty, but also her power and her passion. She was a strong and popular leader. After the blast, her appearance had changed. The scarred right side of her face and the shock of white that coursed through her hair were startling. But maybe even more startling was how little an impact these changes made to the powerful woman. She had taken a sabbatical while she recovered and took that detour to Idaho – what she could remember of that trip left her feeling like she'd wasted a big chunk of her time. When she had returned to Georgia – or what was left of it – she'd found chaos and misery. It took a long time, but she eventually had hammered out a new government, and the people loved her.

Not that they would recognize her today.

"Shit." Aaron says, staring.

Kelly Foster celebrated her forty-ninth birthday just two months ago, but you wouldn't know it to look at her. Not anymore. The Kelly Foster who stands inside the jail cell in Willoughby Texas today looks to be closer to eighty. Her hair is white – not just the chunk that had changed after the blast – all of it. Her skin has the translucent look of someone of advanced age. Fine lines surround her eyes and mouth. Something else has changed with her skin. There is no longer any scarring of any kind on her face. Her eyes are clear. She looks perfectly healthy, but quite old. She also looks really pissed.

"I demand that you tell me what you've done, and then I want you to tell me if you can fix it."

Aaron turns to Deputy Vincent, "Has she said anything crazy since she woke up? Started floating?"

Vincent shakes his head, "Nope. Other than waking up as an old lady, she's been really normal."

Aaron runs his hands through his hair and across his mouth. He's clearly deep in thought. "I must have made a mistake." He says simply.

"At least one." Grace says with a frown.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A full day has passed since the doctor had given both Bass and Charlie an exam. They have followed orders, taking the medicine and resting. Rachel has come to visit a few times. Charlie is stunned to see Bass and her mother act like human beings to each other. She isn't sure how it has all happened, but she is starting to think maybe things with her family will work out. Of course Miles doesn't know yet. Nobody knows what he's going to think when he finds out.

Rachel had gone to her rooms. Magda has just now removed their dinner trays. Bass and Charlie are finally alone. Bass pulls her close, happy to note that her skin now feels cool to the touch. "You're feeling better?"

"Yes, so much better." She sighs. "Still tired, but Magda says that's just a pregnancy thing."

"Is there anything I can do for you?" he wants to know.

"There is maybe one thing," she says leaning close and kissing his throat softly.

"You've been so sick," he says, suddenly breathless. "We probably shouldn't…"

"You're the one always saying our days are numbered. You're getting ready to go fight in another damn war. Give me this Bass. I need it. I need you."

"Well, I'm not leaving yet. Miles won't be here for a couple days at the earliest." He is no good at saying no to this woman though. He has no self control whatsoever. Slowly he begins to stroke her arm, running his fingers down her side and over her hip.

"So then we have a lot to fit into two days." She says with a seductive little smile. Careful of his injured leg, she moves to straddle him, her white night gown cascading down.

Bass places his hands on the curve of her belly. He strokes the firm flesh that protects his child, and he feels his breath catch. Charlie is so amazing and means so much to him. He can't imagine life without her. Now, this tiny baby who he hasn't even met – is just as important to his happiness.

Charlie places her hands over his. She moves the fingers of his right hand lower. "Feel there." She says with a secretive little smile.

They are perfectly still for a few minutes. Bass is ready to give up when he feels it…a tiny bump and then a firmer one. "Charlie." He chokes out, his eyes filling with tears.

"That just started today. The doctor says the baby's been kicking for a while, but now he's finally big enough I can feel it.

"He." Bass says, grinning.

Charlie shrugs, "Neville might be wrong, but I'm going with it until we know differently."

"What will his name be?" Bass asks quietly.

"Well, we need to talk about that. What name are you thinking about?"

"I don't know about a first name, but I want him to be a Monroe."

Charlie watches him for a moment, her expression thoughtful. She nods. "Baby Boy Monroe. Okay."

Bass's hands are on the move again. He finds the hem of her night gown and runs his hands up along her thighs. He finds that she's not wearing panties, and his body responds in a big way. "Charlie." He groans.

"Yeah?" her smirk is adorable and he pulls her down for a kiss.

"Our baby isn't the only one whose name should be Monroe."

"Oh?" she feigns ignorance. "Who else do you have in mind?"

Bass laughs a little, "You, Charlie. You should be a Monroe."

"Are you asking me a question here or just telling me your thoughts on the subject?" her breath is hot on his mouth as her hands roam over his body.

"Question." He whispers, kissing her softly. Charlie begins to work his boxers down over his hips. She moves then, settling down on him with a sigh.

Bass is struggling to maintain any semblance of composure as she begins to move slowly. "Charlie, you didn't answer my question?" he asks.

"Yes." She says breathlessly. "My answer is yes."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Miles and Gene stare down at the city of Indianapolis. They have no way of knowing that Rachel and Bass stood in this same spot just days before, doing the very same thing.

The first day of the trip from Willoughby had been brutal and Miles had worried they'd never get to Indiana. They'd stayed in a run-down hotel in a little town where they'd been told about a steam train that still ran north. The next day they had taken a detour, going forty miles east where they had found the nearest station. For a ridiculous price, they were able to ride in a baggage car. The horses were packed into a livestock car with other mounts. The train ride was far from comfortable, but it had cut their trip down from four days to two.

Miles frowns at the city below. "Let's set up camp here. We'll get a good night sleep and then we'll get down there and see if we can find them first thing tomorrow."

Gene nods. He wants to get to Rachel and Charlie as quickly as possible, but he knows Miles is right. It would be unwise to move on the city at night. "Do you think we made it in time Miles."

"Hope so Gene. Connor better hope so too."

Gene looks at Miles curiously, "Oh, why's that?"

"Piece of shit asked me once why they called me the "Butcher of Baltimore". I wouldn't tell him then." He breaks off, staring at the city below. "If he hurts Charlie, Rachel, or Bass… I'll show him firsthand how I got that nickname."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Connor is getting ready for bed when Dennis knocks on his door.

"What is it?" Connor asks, irritated.

"Neville needs to see you. He says it's urgent." Dennis opens the door wider when Connor motions for him to let Tom in.

Neville steps through the door, "I'm sorry to bother you Sir, but I felt you'd find this information to be important."

"And what is this information you are bringing me?"

"Miles is here, Sir. Set up camp just outside of town. He'll be coming to see you tomorrow morning."

Connor nods thoughtfully. "He's early."

"Miles always was a determined sort, Sir."

"Is he going to give me any trouble about joining my Dad on this mission?"

"Nothing you can't handle, Sir." Neville says with a sneer.

Connor smiles slowly, "Let's make sure he gets the full Bennett Republic welcome, shall we?"

Tom Neville salutes smartly, an evil grin spreading across his face. "That, Sir, is an excellent idea."

**A/N Sorry, once again, for another long delay. I struggled with a part of this story and got sidetracked with a little one-shot that exploded into a multi chap fic with 20,000 words. HA! But, never fear. I'm back on track. Thanks as always to my muse for this story…dvpdvpdvp came up with the premise and has been my sounding board and beta since day one. Couldn't do it without her. **

**Next chap of Fortune Teller will be up in the next couple days and then I'll be back here. Thanks to all who are sticking around for this one. Love you guys! Leave me a comment, and I'll love you even more. **


	7. Chapter 7

"Try to keep your stupid to a minimum."  
>-Miles Matheson<p>

Chapter 7

The hour is early and Bass and Charlie are asleep – arms and legs entwined. They are both startled from their slumber when Connor bursts into their room without warning. Bass is instantly alert and yanks the blankets up over his and Charlie's bodies. Charlie scrambles as well, trying her best to hide her growing belly.

Connor smirks, "Yes, let's pretend I haven't seen all of THAT before."

Bass glowers at him, "What the hell do you want?"

"You need to get ready."

"Ready for what?" Bass runs a hand sleepily through his hair, uncertain and irritable.

"To welcome Miles, of course. He's early, but I think it would be nice to show him just how excited we are that he's here. How better to do that than have his best friend greet him at the gates?"

"Miles is here already?" Charlie asks, surprised.

"Yes. He camped outside of town last night. I'm expecting him any minute." He turns to go, "Wear your dress uniform General. Let's welcome him in style.

The door closes behind Connor. Bass turns to give Charlie a gentle hug. "You okay?"

"Not really. If Miles is here that means you'll be leaving even sooner…" she trails off.

"Yeah. That's true. What else? Something is bothering you…"

"Well, there's also the fact that Miles doesn't know about us yet. We're going to have to tell him before Connor or my Mom do. It should come from one of us."

Bass nods, frowning. "You're right. I'll tell him. I think he needs to hear it from me first."

"That's probably for the best. Are you okay?"

"Oh, I'll be fine. I think Miles will take the news better than you'd think…." He reaches out and strokes her cheek softly. "There's something else that bothers me though."

"What is it?"

"Connor hates Miles. Why is he going to all this trouble to welcome him here?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"So what went wrong? Why does President Foster look so old?" Priscilla asks. "I'm pretty sure that if you turn Rachel Matheson into a senior citizen, she's going to kill you with her very old, but very strong bare hands."

Aaron stops chewing his thumbnail, and chuckles, "True." He says with a humorless smile. He's staring at the newest version of his 'Jagged Little Pill'. Aaron has been working all night to make adjustments, "I'm kind of working blind here, you know? The only way the new capsules even stand a chance is if I can make the Nano in them different from the version we are targeting with the new code. When we upload the revised code, the current Nano will see the human genome as something they will want to avoid. But to keep any sort of health benefits the capsules might offer, the Nano in the new capsule has to be different…"

"So, you're saying you've created a _SECOND_ Nano?" Priscilla is shocked. "Now there are TWO of them?"

Grace nods, "It was the only way, Priscilla. If we put the original Nano into the capsule, the new code would force it from the human host. Then we'd be facing the scenario Aaron talked about before…the one where maybe he and Rachel die." She begins to pace as she talks, "The original Nano was programmed to soak up energy and reproduce. Once we upload the change to the code, the only difference will be that the Nano will no longer want to exist within a human body. This new Nano capsule has to be able to exist in the human body at the very same time the earlier version leaves because of the code."

Priscilla is trying to understand, "Okay, so you're saying that you had to start over…I get that, but what made Foster get older? Was that part of your plan?"

"No. It wasn't part of the plan at all. My new capsule was designed to mirror the healing properties of the original – maybe even improve on them, but that is all. It should support the health of the host it's planted in on a cellular level. That's all it is supposed to do. If it worked, it was going to be a universal band-aid…."

"Mending cells shouldn't age the host though, right?" Priscilla walks to Aaron and puts a supportive hand on his arm.

"Right." Aaron sounds defeated. He turns to Grace, "What did I do wrong?"

"What calculation did you use to calibrate the cellular restructuring?"

Aaron runs a hand through his hair, "I programmed the Jagged Little Pill to locate the healthiest cell in the host body, and then it was supposed to restructure the damaged cells to mirror that healthiest cell. If it had worked right, all her damaged cells would regenerate with the end result being 100% healthy cells." He sits down heavily on an old folding chair. "It should have worked. It should have worked, and then we could have uploaded the new code and when the old Nano would run away, new Nano would still be there, plugging along – keeping the host healthy."

"Or in this case," Grace says with a frown, "healthy and also very old."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Miles and Gene make their way toward the city. They ride slowly through the streets, taking note of the squalor and poverty. Things seem to improve as they get closer to their destination. Miles points ahead toward the entrance of the Bennett Headquarters. "Look up there. Something's happening. Some kind of festival maybe?"

Gene sees the waving banners ahead as well. "Should we wait to go in?"

Miles shrugs, "Nah. Let's just get this over with. I'm curious to see what kind of bullshit Connor thinks is worth celebrating anyway."

They reach the gates and Gene starts to laugh. "Bullshit indeed." He says with a grin as they look at the large painted sign leaning next to the gate. It says in big block letters: GENERAL MILES MATHESON – WELCOME TO THE BENNETT REPUBLIC.

Miles shakes his head, "What the hell?"

Just then they see riders approaching. Men in the Bennett Militia uniform come up to greet Miles and Gene. Miles recognizes Connor first, and is immediately on guard, hand moving to the hilt of his sword.

A second soldier rides between them and Miles tears his eyes away from Connor to see the other rider. He does a double-take. "Bass?"

"Hello Miles." Bass replies with a grin. "Welcome to Indianapolis."

"What the hell? Miles gapes. It hasn't even been two weeks since you left Texas. You're already back in uniform? Connor's uniform?"

Bass pulls his horse next to Miles's and speaks quietly. "Long story Brother. The Kid made me second in command. Charlie and Rachel are okay. They're back at headquarters."

Both Gene and Miles are visibly relieved to hear this news. Gene settles into the background as Bass and Miles continue to talk.

"And Connor?" Miles asks. "He as nuts as they say?"

Bass grimaces, "Worse. Pretty sure he's crazier than Strausser was. Maybe more dangerous too."

Miles pales. "But Charlie and Rachel are okay?"

"For now." Bass pauses for a moment. "How's everything back home? The treaty go through okay?"

Miles shakes his head wearily, "Nothing went as planned. We're probably facing war with Georgia and the fucking Nano is going crazy. Gotta get Charlie and Rachel and get back home."

"Well, about that…" Bass pauses for a moment. "We're gonna have to take a bit of a detour first."

"What kind of detour?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tom Neville watches from a distance. He always has been on the outside, looking in - when it came to Matheson and Monroe. To say he hates them would be the worst of understatements. He loathes them and he wants nothing more than for both of them to feel the pain and loss Tom has suffered through over the years.

Predicting the future is tricky and imperfect. Tom sees likely outcomes but not absolute truths. His images come in hazy waves and can vary from day to day depending on choices people make. Today he closes his eyes, focusing on these two men. He sees a future that includes victory in Iowa, followed by turmoil and maybe death for at least one of them. This makes Neville smile. Death is too good for them, but he'll take what he can get.

He rides closer and pulls his horse to a stop next to Connor. "Was the welcome party a success, Sir?"

Connor narrows his eyes and frowns, "Miles hasn't even said hello to me yet. They've been talking since he got here." Connor is clearly acting the part of the petulant child who is not getting the attention he craves.

Neville rolls his eyes, "Sir, it is how they are. Don't take it personally. Would you mind if I went up and welcomed them myself?"

Connor shrugs and Neville moves closer yet. When he reaches them, the two Generals look up. Miles is clearly surprised, "Neville? What the hell are you doing here?"

Tom smiles coldly, "Nice to see you too, Miles. I'm not interrupting anything am I? I know you two lovebirds haven't seen each other for a few days. I'd just hate to bust up your sweet little reunion."

"Remind me," Miles deadpans to Bass, "Why haven't we killed this douche yet?"

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Rachel is exhausted and weary. She has been sleeping a lot, though she visits Charlie a couple times a day. She is becoming more and more convinced that the thing in her head is growing and that it is getting stronger. As the tumor – or whatever it is – grows, it saps more and more of her energy. Her only comfort is in the fact that the pain is now being managed by Connor's doctors. She feels hazy on a regular basis, but is no longer suffering.

Rachel is fairly certain that she doesn't have long left to live. It is with that thought heavy on her mind that she goes to Charlie's room. Her steps are slow but determined. She hates that stupid wheel chair and avoids it whenever possible.

She knocks quietly before opening the door. Even in her drug induced blur, she knows she doesn't want to see Charlie and Bass in the middle of anything. Rachel shudders delicately at the thought. She hears a murmured 'Come in', and opens the door. Charlie is alone. She is looking out the bedroom window, leaning against the glass. Her expression is sad. She's wearing the long white gown that Connor had given her. It billows loosely around her slender frame. She looks tired, but has gotten some color and isn't coughing anymore. Charlie seems to finally be recovering. This knowledge gives Rachel a feeling of peace. She sighs with a tired smile. "How are you feeling today?"

Charlie glances over at her mother and shrugs. "I guess I'm fine. Just worried. Miles is here."

Rachel's heartbeat increases. She touches her hair, feeling how out of place it is. She must look a wreck, and poor Miles doesn't even know she's been sick. She is overcome by the helplessness of this situation. She should be glad that the man she loves is here, and she is. She is also scared. She's is scared of having to tell him the truth…that their time together is probably very limited. "He's here." Rachel says quietly. "When do we see him?"

"I don't know." Charlie answers. "Connor drug Bass out of bed to greet Miles at the gate. That was an hour ago. I have no idea how quickly they'll get here."

"You look so sad Charlie. Aren't you glad Miles is here? Surely he can help us."

Charlie sighs heavily. "Connor won't let me go unless Bass fights for him in Iowa. Bass won't go there without Miles. They'll both be leaving soon."

"Oh." Rachel sits down as her legs go weak. "So we will have to stay here longer?"

"Connor isn't letting us go until this battle is won. After that, he says he'll let us leave."

Rachel watches Charlie carefully, "You don't think he's telling the truth?"

"I don't know what to think anymore." Charlie whispers, once again staring out the window.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Gene has watched Miles and Bass talk for a while. Now Neville is in the mix of it as well, and the three are tossing around insults like frat brothers. He's had enough and approaches the trio on his horse.

"Miles, Monroe, I'm glad you guys are catching up, but I want to see Rachel. I want to see Charlie. Let's go."

They look at Gene and see he means business. Miles is also struck by how much he wants to see them as well. "You're right Gene. Let's go. Lead the way Bass."

Gene rides between the Generals, "Monroe, how are they - really?"

Bass pauses for a moment, "I'd like you to give them both an exam. Rachel hasn't been doing well. Connor's doctor is taking care of her, but I think you'll want to see for yourself. She's really struggling. Charlie…" he pauses, uncomfortable. "Charlie has pneumonia. She's doing some better, but still isn't strong enough to be out of bed for long." Bass decides to tell Gene about Charlie's other 'condition' while Miles is visiting Rachel.

Gene nods, "Okay. I'll do that. Anything else we should know?"

Bass takes a deep breath. This is going to be tricky. "Well, yeah. There is one thing."

"What's that?" Miles asks, his mind clearly somewhere else.

"Uh, well…" Bass clears his throat.

The nervous tone in his voice finally breaks through to Miles, who glares at him. "I can tell I'm going to hate whatever it is you say next. Just spit it out."

"Do you remember how a few weeks ago you asked who I was dating? Said you could tell I must be seeing someone, but I said I wasn't ready to tell you about her yet?"

Miles looks at him as if he's trying to solve a puzzle, but gets no answers from Monroe's expression. "Yeah, I guess so. Why?"

"Well, she's here."

"Your piece of ass is in Indianapolis? How the hell?"

Connor is riding nearby and snickers. "Piece of ass." He repeats under his breath, grinning.

Bass scowls. "She's not just some piece of ass, you dick. She's special to me. We've been seeing each other for a while… quite a while actually. Almost a year."

Miles shakes his head, confused. "You've been seeing someone – who is NOT just a piece of ass – for several months and she's here?" he throws up his hands. "I give up. What's the punch line?"

Connor leans closer to Miles and grins. "You, Miles. I think you are the punch line. After all, how did you not notice your best friend has been banging your niece?"

"What the hell?" Miles roars, turning quickly from Connor to Bass and back again. Bass has closed his eyes. He suddenly looks very tired. Connor on the other hand is laughing so hard he might fall from his saddle.

Gene pipes up, "Monroe and Charlie? No way."

Connor gets hold of himself but just barely. "Way Grandpa. WAY."

Miles glowers, but only stares forward. "Take me to her now. I want to talk to Charlie. After I talk to Charlie I'll decide if I kill you or not."

"Which one of us are you talking to Miles?" Connor asks with a chuckle.

"Both."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kelly Foster sits in the Willoughby sheriff's office staring into a hand held mirror that Priscilla had brought after they'd decided Kelly was no longer a threat to anyone – assuming she ever had been. Nobody dies from watching someone float after all, Kelly thinks bitterly. She is thankful that Aaron and Deputy Vincent have let her out of the cell at least. She has been asked not to leave the sheriff's office, and she has agreed. Mostly she has been reading old magazines and staring into this mirror.

One benefit to this forced vacation is that she's had a lot of time to think. It is amazing how clear her mind is now. She feels like her brain is hitting on all cylinders. It's not simply that she's reverted to how she was before the blast. No, these changes are somehow more than that. It's true that her physical appearance is jarring, and Kelly hopes Aaron and his ladies can get that fixed, but now that the initial shock has worn off, she's starting to think about it all differently.

Now that she's no longer totally appalled to see a much older version of herself in the mirror, she's starting to wonder if accelerated aging was a small price to pay. The pain is gone. She's suffered so much since the blast rocked Atlanta and she'd been injured. She'd forgotten what being pain-free feels like.

It feels like heaven.

Kelly has decided that if they can't fix the way she looks, she's not even going to complain as long as the pain stays away. For now though she wants to get back to her people. They will be astonished, to say the least, if she looks like this when she returns, but if she wants to avoid war with Texas – time is of the essence.

She decides to give Aaron a couple more days. Then she's going to demand to be truly released. She has a lot to do.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Rachel has gone back to her room. She wants to clean up and do something with her hair before Miles gets here.

Charlie is feeling better, but still tires easily and is now lying in her bed again. Her eyes have just started to drift closed when she hears a knock at her door.

"Come on in." she mumbles without looking. Magda had said she'd be bringing some tea, and that is who Charlie assumes is at the door.

"Hey Kid."

Charlie vaults into a sitting position, a tired but happy grin on her face. "Miles!"

He comes to her side and gives her a hug. "You doing okay?"

She shrugs a little, noticing that Bass, Connor and her Grandpa all stand near the door. "I'm better than I was. Hi Grandpa." She says, sending him a smile as well.

Gene approaches the bed. "Monroe wants me to give you a checkup. You want me to do that now or wait till a little later?"

Charlie looks at Bass and sees the almost imperceptible shake of his head, "No, you go see Mom first. Connor will show you where. I think I need to talk to Miles."

"Okay Charlie." Gene says, leaning over and giving her a kiss on the top of her head. "Glad you are all right. I'll be back soon for that exam."

Charlie nods, squeezing her Grandpa's fingers in her own before he is lead away by Connor. She looks from Miles to Bass. Bass looks worried and nervous. Miles's jaw is tense and he looks on edge. Clearly they've talked. "So…" she says, unsure where to begin.

"So, I hear you and dipshit over there are dating or something?" Miles says, sounding resigned and maybe a little hopeful that he's mistaken.

Charlie glances up at Bass again. He nods. "Yeah, we are dating… or something."

Miles runs a hand through his already mussed hair. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"Well, um… when this is all over…" she trails off.

Bass walks close and sits on the side of the bed opposite where Miles is perched. Charlie sits between them, mostly covered in the thick quilt. "When all this is over, and the dust has settled…" he continues, grasping her hand.

"We're going to get married." Charlie says, her eyes on Bass.

"Married?" Miles asks, his voice cracking. He stands and begins to pace. Now and then he stops and stares at them. Each time he looks, they meet his gaze with twin expressions of hope. He realizes after a few minutes that they are hoping he's okay with this.

"I'm not okay with this." He says grouchily. "You should have told me."

Charlie nods, "Well, we were going to – this week actually, but then I got kidnapped and things sort of changed."

Miles turns to face Bass head on, "So when I asked you to find her… to help her…"

"I would have done it even if you didn't ask. I would have gone after her even if you told me to stay in Texas. I love her Miles."

"Oh hell." Miles begins to pace again.

"And I love him." Charlie says. A smile is slowly spreading across her face. If Miles hasn't threatened Bass with bodily harm at this point, he probably isn't going to now.

Suddenly Miles stops, and whirls. "Oh Jesus. Does Rachel know?" his eyes are wide with fear.

Charlie giggles, and nods. "Yeah she knows."

"And you aren't dead? How fucking sick is she?" Now Miles is truly worried.

Bass had been smiling too, but now it fades. "She is pretty sick Brother, but that's not it. Rachel knows and she's okay with all of it."

"Maybe okay is a stretch, but she accepts it." Charlie says helpfully. "She knows we love each other."

Miles looks skeptical. "Are you holding her prisoner, Bass?"

"No!" Bass says, standing. He is irritated and hurt that Miles would even suggest he'd stoop to that point again. "Listen, while Rachel and I were on the road, a lot of shit happened and we talked a lot and she was a little crazy – like crazier than normal – but we just kind of came to an understanding, eventually."

"Crazy, how?" Miles asks through gritted teeth, "And what do you mean 'a lot of shit happened'?"

"Well, for one, your girlfriend can read minds now. So, there's that." Bass said, with an edge to his voice – ignoring how Miles's mouth falls open in surprise, "And she was losing time – thought we were still in Philly… then asked where Danny was… then she was hallucinating that Ben was riding with her…" Bass trails off as he gets closer to Miles. When they are face to face he finishes, "So like I said, some shit happened."

Miles closes his eyes and nods. "It's the damn Nano. Aaron is trying to figure out how to fix it."

"The Nano?" Bass and Charlie both ask at the same time.

"Yeah, evidently anyone who has something wrong with their brain and who also gets infected – or whatever you want to call it – by the Nano, well, they develop some different abilities."

"So the mind reading?" Bass asks.

Miles nods.

Charlie looks at Bass, "Neville can do it too. Sometimes he can even predict the future."

"Shit." Miles sighs, "He's evil enough all on his own. That guy does not need super Nano powers."

"Wait." Charlie says, "You said infected by the Nano. How was Mom infected?"

"It's that capsule in her leg Charlie…" he looks at her, waiting for her to get it.

"The one from Danny?" her voice is small.

"Yeah."

Charlie nods slowly, and lets out a long breath. "Can we take it out?" Bass moves back to her side, settling in close.

Miles shrugs, "No. Well, maybe. Aaron is afraid it might be the thing that's keeping the tumor from killing her. So, he's trying to make a new version. Two new versions actually."

"You lost me." Bass says.

"It's a long story that involves the President of Georgia levitating at our treaty meeting. Evidently a lot of people have gotten infected – that's the wrong term really, but it works – by the Nano itself. It appears in the form of a dead person and kind of takes over."

"Like it did for Priscilla?" Charlie asks, eyes wide.

"Yeah, and it happened to Aaron once." Miles shakes his head, looking very tired suddenly. "Hell, it might have happened to me too. Never was sure if I was imagining things or if I'd just drank too much but back in Willoughby just before the Andover Clan took over…"

"What?"

"Well, I saw Ben. He talked to me. He was pissed at me. It was kind of awful."

"So you're infected too?" Charlie asks, sounding a little panicked.

"We don't know. Maybe. And Aaron might be. Remember the Nano brought him back to life somehow? Kelly Foster was infected for sure. Sounds like Neville was. So anyway, that's why Aaron is trying to develop a fix for the Nano that we already know. His fix will make the Nano not want to exist within a human body. The second version he's making is a new capsule. He said if it works right, it will be like a universal band aid. And that would replace the healing properties of the Nano that we'll be losing when he uploads the new code."

"So it could heal people like Mom?"

"Yeah, assuming he gets it done in time." Miles suddenly looks antsy. "I need to see Rachel. Where is she?"

"She's across the hall and down two doors." Charlie answers, pointing. She chooses that moment to readjust how she's sitting and the quilt pools on her thighs. Even though the gown she wears is loose and not at all revealing, her swollen belly is suddenly very much on display.

Everyone freezes. Miles's eyes are locked on the gentle swell in her middle and what it obviously means. He turns to Bass. "That your work too?" he asks stiffly.

Bass nods. "So there was this one other thing we wanted to tell you..."

"Save it, dick." Miles growls as he leaves the room. "We'll talk about that later."

The door slams behind him, and Bass pulls Charlie close. "So that could have gone better."

Charlie nestles closer, "Oh I don't know. It wasn't so bad. We're alive and not bleeding."

Bass smiles, pressing a soft kiss to her mouth, "You're right. Alive and not bleeding is good."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Gene is sitting next to Rachel. She is asleep, her face peaceful. He strokes her hair lovingly, memorizing every plane of her face. Miles comes in and carefully sits on the bed next to Rachel.

"How's she doing?" Miles asks quietly.

"Not good." Gene shakes his head. "She's weak, and they have her on a lot of pain medicine. She is still losing time. When we were talking she asked where her Mom is…" he trails off, his eyes wet with tears.

"Shit." Miles mutters, his voice cracking.

"How's Charlie?"

Miles shrugs, "Looks kind of tired, and pregnant. Otherwise I guess she's okay."

"Pregnant?" Gene asks, eyes wide. "And Bass is the…?"

Miles nods. "Yep. And I guess they're getting married when all this Connor bullshit is over. They say they're in love."

"Everything just keeps getting weirder." Gene mutters.

"Yeah, no kidding. Did you tell Rachel about what Aaron is trying to do?"

"Yeah, but I'm not sure how much of it she grasped. It feels like she's slipping away Miles. It's breaking my heart."

Miles nods, his jaw tight. "You will stay with them when I go to Iowa with Bass."

"Iowa? Why are you going there?"

"Evidently I've been drafted into the Bennett Corn War." He says bitterly. "Connor isn't going to let Charlie go unless Bass wins him the farmland of Iowa, and Bass doesn't think he can do it without me."

"Is he right?"

"Probably." Miles shrugs. "We always did work better as a team than apart."

"Well, hurry Miles. Get that done so you can be with her before she goes. I don't…." Gene chokes on his words. "I don't think we have long."

Miles doesn't respond directly, but lays a hand softly against Rachel's cheek. He stands and moves toward the door. "Bass and I have to go talk to Connor. We'll be back as soon as we've finalized our plans."

Xxxxxxxxxx

Miles doesn't say anything as the two Generals make their way down the wide hallway toward Connor's office. He slows his gait enough to accommodate for Bass's slower pace. The limp is more noticeable in situations like this. Miles frowns. His brow is furrowed. He wants to be mad but it's difficult. After all, he's always wanted Charlie and Bass to both find happiness. It just never occurred to him that they'd find it with each other.

Just before they get to the ornate wooden door that will lead them into Connor's inner sanctum, Bass stops. "Miles, I know you're pissed and a lot is going on and everything is uncertain, but we need to show Connor a united front here. He's off his fucking rocker. If he senses we're at odds, I don't know how this plays out."

"How are you so calm about Connor being nuts? How is that not bothering you?"

Bass looks grim. "Oh it bothers me. It kills me to think he's like this because of anything I've done. I wish I had a second chance, but there isn't one. Now he's crossed a line. He's put Charlie in danger. He has put our baby in danger…" Bass stops, and becomes even more serious. "Connor doesn't know about the baby Miles. We don't want him to know yet."

"How does he not know?"

"She was wearing a baggy jacket when she got here. She's been in bed ever since. The doctor knows. Magda knows. Neville knows, but none of them have told Connor."

Miles shakes his head, "Neville knows? Damnit I hate that guy. I still don't actually understand why he's even here…" he pauses, "Wait. Magda? Magda who?"

"Yeah, our Magda from Philly..." Bass smiles a little. "I always figured she died in the blast, but I guess she was out of town visiting family. Anyway, she came here a while afterward and got a job on Connor's household staff."

"Small fucking world. How is the old girl?" Miles asks, a hint of a smile curving his lips.

"She's good Miles. She took to Charlie right away. They've become friends."

"Of course they have." Miles sighs. "Listen Bass, I'm not mad. I'm really not. I'm just overwhelmed okay?"

Bass smiles slowly. "Yeah. A lot of that going around. I'm glad you aren't mad. We're gonna be family soon, you know."

"Ah hell Bass. We already were family."

They share a look that says all the things they don't put into words. Their friendship has survived worse than this. They'll be okay.

Bass nods toward the door, and then grasps the knob, "Time to go in there and figure out what's coming next."

"Whoopee." Miles deadpans as he follows Bass through the door.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Priscilla and Grace are asleep in empty jail cells. Kelly is back in hers, though the door is no longer kept locked. Deputy Vincent is at his desk, shuffling through paperwork. Aaron is sitting at a table in the conference room. Every inch of the table is covered with diagrams and pages of code.

Aaron is exhausted. He's not sleeping. Every time he closes his eyes, he is overwhelmed by bits of code and random ideas and what if's. He's been staring at the same page of calculations for twenty minutes when the he feels a mental nudge. He suddenly knows he's close to figuring out the answer, but when he tries to investigate the thought that is just almost there…it dances out of reach.

Frustrated, he decides he needs to occupy his mind with something completely off topic. Maybe that will jumpstart his thought process and the answer will come easily. Aaron leans back and stares at the dingy grey ceiling. In his mind he imagines it is a movie screen and he begins to play back the best scenes from his favorite movies – thank God for a perfect memory. He starts with Ghostbusters, moves on to Pulp Fiction and Stripes. He hits Breakfast Club, Independence Day and then suddenly without warning a memory of a movie that is not at all a favorite crosses his mind… The Day After.

The Day After was not a fun movie. It wasn't one Aaron had even watched twice, though it may have been the very first post-apocalyptic movie he'd ever watched. He remembers it was depressing and scary and he remembers Steve Guttenberg was in it. Weird to see that guy in something serious. Police Academy…now THAT was a good Guttenberg Movie. So why is The Day After suddenly in his head? Slowly, Aaron moves back into his earlier position and stares at the calculations spread on the table before him. The gears in Aaron's brain slowly move and click and then they whir and hum as a new idea takes shape. The same elusive idea that had been scratching at the outskirts of his mind is here. It's here, and it's good. He knows it in his gut.

The grin that slowly spreads across Aaron Pittman's face is one of both joy and triumph.

"Yes!" he says, slamming a closed fist onto the table top before standing and doing a silly little dance.

"Everything okay in here?" Deputy Vincent pops around the door frame.

"Everything is far better than okay Vincent! Get Blanchard over here will you? And wake the women. I know what went wrong." Aaron is rubbing his palms together gleefully. He needs to verify some calculations, but he's never been surer of anything in his life.

The jagged little pill is going to work…if only they can get it to Rachel in time.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

"What the hell is THAT?" Miles asks with a smirk. He's pointing at the paintings behind Connor's desk. "Bass, is that a reproduction of the painting from Philly? The one that Rosalie painted?" he's grinning.

Bass is clearly uncomfortable. "Yeah, that's the one. Well, someone here made this after looking at a small version of the original."

Connor crosses his arms, glowering at the other men. "Who is Rosalie?"

"She was a hooker." Miles is chuckling, "but not just any hooker. Rosalie was also an artist. She liked to paint portraits….naked." He walks behind Connor's desk, completely ignoring the fact that he's now in the younger man's personal space. He points up at the painting, "See how Bass looks all mean and badass here? Truth is Rosalie had been teasing him by flashing her snatch at him for hours while she painted, and every time he moved, she told him to get back into his pose. This isn't evil dictator Monroe. This is sexually frustrated to the point of insanity Monroe."

"Some stories never ever need to be repeated Miles." Bass tries to sound stern but it feels good to smile after all the craziness and drama lately. Soon both of the Generals are laughing at memories that Connor doesn't share.

The President of the Bennett Republic watches the two old friends who speak in a language of shortcuts and inside jokes and shared experiences that span a lifetime. He watches and he seethes. This close relationship with his father is what Connor always wanted. It is something he is beginning to believe he'll never have. Finally he's had enough. "How about," he says in a tight voice, "We start talking a little more strategy for Iowa and a lot less painting hooker stories?"

"Oh, yeah…right." Miles says. "Iowa." His smile fades and he lounges in one of the chairs that face Connor's desk. Casually, he props his dusty boots up on the shiny surface of the desk itself. "All Right Junior. Where do you want to start?"

Connor feels his blood pressure sky rocketing. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He grits his teeth, facing Miles. "Let's start with this." He walks to a large table that is covered in various maps, motioning for Bass and Miles to follow. They follow after exchanging a knowing look.

Over the next hour, Connor brings up a plan and the Generals swiftly shoot it down. This happens three times before Connor finally stops making suggestions. He fumes when he sees they haven't even noticed he's left the conversation.

"We go through here," Miles points at a point on the map, "and follow this creek which feeds into the Mississippi. Then we split our troops and attack here, and here." He points to two different spots on the map.

"Oh," Bass says, "Like Cincinnati?"

Miles nods. "Yep, I think so."

Bass tilts his head to the side, considering the plan, "But what if we change it up just a little? Say we do everything you just suggested…but with fire?"

"Scranton?" Miles's eyes go wide, and then he nods in agreement. "That would work, especially this year because of the drought."

"How many men is he giving us anyway?" Miles asks, looking around for Connor. He sees him leaning against a far wall, looking out a window. "Baby Bass, how many men do we get?"

"Four hundred." Connor says coolly. He then moves across the space to stand in front of Miles. "We need to get one thing straight, General Matheson." All color has drained from Connor's face, and his eyes bulge. "If you ever call me Baby Bass or Junior or any other stupid nickname, I will not hesitate to put you in front of my firing squad. I am the President of this Republic and you will treat me with the respect I deserve." By the time his speech is finished, blobs of saliva has collected in the corners of his mouth. The president of the Bennett Republic is clearly unhinged.

Miles nods slowly, "I apologize for that President Bennett. I'll try my best not to disrespect you again."

Connor lets out a breath, still seething, but placated for the moment. "Now that you've settled on your plan, get some rest. You and your regiment will ride at dawn."

"Yes, Sir." Miles says. Bass hears the sarcasm, but it seems to escape Connor's notice.

Bass figures that's a good thing. He puts his arm around Miles's shoulder. "Let's go spend some quality time with our women before we have to go off to battle."

Miles nods. "Yeah, dawn will be here before we know it."

"It always is."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Miles gets back to Rachel's room, she is awake. Her eyes are a little unfocused and she looks exhausted. Miles is stunned to see how far she has declined in such a short time.

"Hey," he says, sitting next to her on the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"It's so good to see you." Rachel ignores his question. Her voice is weak. She reaches up and strokes his cheek with a shaky hand. "I've missed you."

"Jesus Rachel, why didn't you tell me something was wrong?"

She smiles sadly, "What could have you done? This isn't a problem you can fix Miles."

"I just wish…"

"Yeah, me too." She nods. "So, Iowa right?" Rachel pauses, suddenly looking confused. "Or was it Missouri? I get confused."

"Iowa." Miles says. "We leave in the morning."

"How long?"

"I don't know. It will have us two days to get there. Two days to get back. At least a week, maybe a month, maybe more of actual fighting." Miles is frustrated. He runs a hand along his jaw, "We really don't know what to expect."

"You're worried about me. About Charlie."

"Of course I am. This whole situation is beyond shitty."

"I was mad about it at first. Really mad. Now, after seeing them together and how much they love each other…well, now it's okay."

"What are you talking about?" he asks hesitantly.

"You were just thinking about how you hate that Bass and Charlie are together. You were wondering how I'm okay with it all…"

"Hell. Bass said you could read minds…."

"Well, sometimes. I'm getting the hang of it anyway."

"Gene told you Aaron is trying to fix all this Nano bullshit, right?"

Rachel nods, "He did, but Miles?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't think he'll get here in time. I don't think that I have much time left."

Miles shakes his head no. His vision goes blurry as tears well. "No." he says. "No."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Across the hall, Charlie and Bass are in bed. He is holding her close, their arms and legs tangled. One of his hands rests protectively over her swollen belly. She places her own hand over his.

"I know it's selfish, but I don't want you to go." Charlie says in a whisper.

"It's not selfish. I don't want to go either, but I have to. If we want to go back to Texas and if I want to end all this without killing Connor – this is the only way."

"I just have a bad feeling about it. I'm afraid you'll get hurt again."

"I'm a survivor Charlie, just like you are. And Miles will be with me. We've been through worse before. It's going to be okay."

She nestles closer, memorizing the feel of his skin, the sound of his heart, the heat of his breath. "I love you Bass."

"And I love you." His hand moves and strokes over her belly, "Both of you."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Miles and Bass and four hundred Bennett Militia soldiers leave Indianapolis at dawn. Goodbyes are kept brief. Both men have said the things that matter when they were alone with the women they love. Neither sees any reason to make a show of it all in front of Connor.

"Take care of them." Bass says to Connor just before he heads out.

"Of course." Connor replies, his expression tense. "Go win me Iowa."

"We'll do what we can Connor. That's all I can promise." Bass is worried. Connor is assuming a victory will be easy. The Generals aren't so sure.

"Well, if you want to take Charlie back to Willoughby, I suggest you win."

Miles has had enough. "Listen you little prick. We are too old for all this bullshit. We're gonna do the best we can. You are going to take good care of Charlie and Rachel while we're gone, and hopefully we'll have good news when we get back. We can't promise you anything though. You are throwing us into a place we don't know, against an enemy we don't fully understand, for a cause that doesn't really matter to us. The least you can do is be a man and say thank you. Maybe wish us luck."

Connor looks out at the sea of soldiers and sees many of them have heard Miles's outburst. Connor has continually struggled with troop morale and it is no secret that most of them don't like him. The fact that Miles would talk like this in front of the men, makes Connor burn with anger. "Good luck, Asshole." He says with a cocky little smile. "You go win me Iowa. I'll take good care of your women…assuming you know, that they're still both alive when you return."

Now Bass is furious as well. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Have you seen Rachel lately? She's barely hanging on. So, chop, chop. Time's wasting."

Miles doesn't even think about it. He lunges and knocks Connor to the ground, pummeling him with his bare fists. Connor is physically strong, but it's been a while since he had to defend himself. He's rusty and never has a chance to gain the upper hand.

Bass pulls Miles back before much damage can be done. Connor is sputtering and spitting out blood. "That was a mistake, Matheson."

Miles is not done. He moves into Connor's personal space and pushes a finger into the President's chest. "Listen to me you impotent piece of shit. You will be very sorry if I find out you have so much as touched Rachel or Charlie when I get back."

Connor is shaken, but feels the eyes of the soldiers on them. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Then you're a lot dumber than you look." Miles snarls.

Bass moves close, ready to break them up. "You both need to calm down." He takes a deep breath before facing his son, "And Connor, Miles isn't the only one who expects Rachel and Charlie to be okay when we get back. We're going on good faith. We're gonna do our best to win the land you need for your Republic. In return, you need to keep them safe while we're gone."

"Whatever. Just go." Connor growls.

They turn and walk away. Miles turns to Bass with a smirk, "How did a kid of yours end up being suck a worthless pussy?"

Connor waits a beat, listening for his father to defend him. Instead, Bass chuckles. "Must come from his Mom's side."

All the planning. All the work. All for nothing. Connor sees red. He clenches his fists in fury as he watches the Generals mount their horses and give the signal for the soldiers to follow. They never even turn to see him before they ride west.

This is Miles's fault. When they return victorious (as Neville has predicted) Connor will have Miles executed. That will take care of him. Bass isn't innocent either. He keeps letting others get between them. Miles and now Charlie are his first priority. If he thinks of Connor at all, it is as an afterthought. Clearly Bass will also have to be punished.

Connor ponders this for a moment, wiping the blood from his split lip. Slowly he grins. He knows just what to do.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Charlie misses Bass more than she would have thought possible, especially considering he's only been gone for a few hours. She is curled up on her side in the big bed they had shared. She is snuggled under the quilt, her face buried in his pillow. She is done crying, at least she thinks so. Now she's just soaking up the memories of their time spent in this bed, loving the smell of him still lingering on his pillow. She is startled out of her reverie by her bedroom door slamming open.

Charlie looks up and is surprised to see Connor Bennett standing in her door. He has mostly avoided her ever since they had talked when she first arrived. This was something Charlie has been very thankful for.

Connor walks toward her bed, his gait uneven. In one hand he holds an almost empty whiskey bottle. Clearly he's been in a fight, judging from the cuts and bruises on his face. He gets to her bed, and takes a deep pull from the bottle. He never takes his eyes off her face.

"What do you want?" Charlie asks, nervous.

"Oh, you know..." He says with a slur.

"No, I don't know." Charlie responds, pulling her blanket tighter under her chin.

"See Charlie, here's the thing. You were supposed to be mine, but when I found out you and my Dad had a thing going, I stepped back. I was a goddamned gentleman." Connor is scowling now. "And I thought things would be the way I'd imagined. Dad and I would run this place together, but he doesn't want to do it with me. He wants to rule with Miles. Miles. Miles. Miles. I'm so sick of Miles!" his voice rises with each mention of her uncle's name, until finally he hurls the whiskey bottle at the far wall where it shatters.

"I'm sorry things aren't working out the way you planned." She says, hoping he won't hear the fear in her voice.

"Starting right now," Connor says as he reaches for his belt buckle. His eyes are hot with intent, "Everything is going to work out exactly the way I plan it."


End file.
